Memorize My Body
by suspensegirl
Summary: Based off 4x07 promo, episode, 4x08 promo & CB spoilers - If sex was all she would give him, he would take what he could get.
1. Morning After

A/N: My 2nd CB oneshot! =D Yaaaaaaaay. Though, I must admit, I think this might be a two-shot. It'll all depend on next week's episode – which, OMG, looks _amazing_ – because if I think the fic I'm writing down now could have gone differently with all of the specific circumstances involved from that episode, then I'll write a part 2. A 'what if' from before & after the episode, if you will. Lol. But if I think it could be pretty similar, then I'll just keep it as is. Kapeesh? Lovely. Please read & review. =)

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

**Ch.1—Morning After**

The first sensation that came to him was an aching back. It was smooth and warm beneath him, but he felt the tingle of cold air that surrounded his body. At a time like this, he knew, was when he'd wrap himself in one of his exquisite, patterned robes and find himself in his bed, the one with covers more expensive than his liquor. He moved slightly against the wood though and the night came rushing back to him. He opened his eyes and saw her in her splendid glory, dress half off, hair a silky tangled mess, perfect eyelashes brushed up against her cheeks. She looked like an angel.

But, as much as he wanted to stay right there and pretend that everything was good between them, that they'd just had make-up sex after an intense argument over some trivial matter, his back ached and he knew when she woke up she would claim it was only because they were incredible horny. They'd had some sort of spark, some sort of energy crackle through them when they'd agreed to their _first_ treaty some days earlier. It had been so bittersweet, but they'd agreed to it. They would be friends, they would get over what they'd had, and they'd move on – civilly – to other people and with each other.

Blair moaned in her sleep and arched her back a little. Chuck was mesmerized by the curves of her body and how they thrust forward into the air. It wasn't morning yet, technically speaking it was – 3 a.m. He wanted to take her again, to pretend again that it wasn't hate-sex, that it wasn't just them being horny or needing some sort of release. Because, hell, he'd had every woman in Manhattan and quite frequently, picking up right where he left off after Eva left. But Blair Waldorf was his weakness. She was simply too tempting to ignore. He'd nearly gone crazy the day before with every single move she made. She'd been teasing him relentlessly and he'd had to take cold shower after cold shower all day long. It was getting incredibly ridiculous. The only solution was to hurt her again. Because if she decided she hated him again, along with being horny she'd be fierce and vulnerable. It would be the perfect combination and he'd win for sure. He'd finally get his release. It was extremely selfish, and he knew that, but if he couldn't have her heart, he would claim her body and _easily_.

Her eyes flickered open as her back lowered back to the table. The frown on her face and creased forehead she was in as much pain as he was. She was concentrating on it, and reality hit exactly two seconds later. Her eyes widened. She looked down at her half-nude self, struggled to cover herself up and sit straight up on the table to rush off. She ignored him completely, but he did not ignore her. Before she could spring up and scurry off, he grabbed the back of her neck and kissed her hard on the mouth. He could feel the shiver that went through her and the butterflies that exploded in him. Almost immediately she granted his tongue access and moaned into him. She slipped out of the rest of her dress then and straddled him. He was so caught up in her, caught up in her body, in her soul, even if he could never admit it.

"You are so _hot_," he whispered huskily against her.

"Shh," she said darkly, placing two fingers on his parted lips and leaning down far enough to press her naked chest against his. He groaned and tightened his grasp on her waist and hips. "No talking," she whispered with a smirk.

"You're going to kill me, woman." He flipped them over with ease and slipped a knee in between her legs. _This was so good_, he thought, knowing he'd remember it forever. He hadn't had table sex with her – or _anyone_ for that matter – in what felt like _years_. And it hadn't even been uncomfortable until afterwards, at which time he'd decided they better move to a softer, more comfortable location. But with Blair nibbling at his throat and her hand traveling down his stomach, wisping through his dark, curling hairs, the last thing he wanted to do was move. If she wanted kinky, they were going to do kinky.

"I'll be right back," she whispered against him, silencing him with a scorching kiss on his already wide-opened swollen lips. "Don't move."

He gaped. "I couldn't if I tried," he made out. She smiled, slipping on her dress half-way and flitting off to the kitchen. He watched her with amusement and awe, his eyes not leaving her figure until she was out of sight. He'd been so deprived of his Blair sex. There was no way he was going to let it happen again. He heard her turn on the lights to the kitchen and dig a few things out of the refridgerator. When she came back with cherries, whipped cream, chocolate syrup, and strawberries, he nearly fell off the table.

"Come on, up to my room," she tempted, starting the flight up the stairs. He didn't have to be told twice. He slipped his buttoned-down shirt around him and followed after her, pinning her to the wall for a brief fuck before landing in her bedroom and on the floor, just inches away from the warm bed. In the back of his mind he chuckled, but things were so hot again, he didn't dare mention it. He could hardly think straight as it was.

When they both finally went over the edge and climaxed, and he was near sleep, his mind cleared momentarily. He opened his eyes and looked up at the ceiling, felt her turning into him. He arm instinctively went around her shoulders. The feel of her hair against his skin was exquisite. Fear engulfed him then. He didn't want things to be the same in the morning. He wanted this night to have changed them. But he wasn't stupid. So, he just fell asleep instead.

…

He heard the shower going when he woke up some hours later. He was still on the floor and he was sure Blair was in the bathroom, ridding herself of him, of his scent, of his germs. It made him cringe, though it also tempted him to go into the shower with her. _No_, he scolded himself. That would be too intimate for a night of hate-sex. Too _real_.

Fifteen minutes later, he stood leaning against the wall next to the bathroom. She unlocked and opened the door, stepping out into her room with the elegance of a queen. She glanced at him briefly.

"All yours," she said casually. He nodded once, but then turned towards her before going inside. "I hate you, Chuck. Just so you know." She smiled crisply. He was hurt by the words, but he was nothing if not efficient, if not totally the ultimate in facades. They both were. That was what made them perfect. they were so alike they were practically identical. He knew that not in a million lifetimes would they find anyone as perfect for each other as they were.

"I hate you too," he said a little too sweetly. Her eyes glittered at him and he shared the gaze until she turned away again and proceeded to examine herself in the mirror. He smirked and went into the bathroom, dropping the little clothing he'd adorned himself with and went into the shower. He could still smell her in there. He breathed in the scent, drowning himself in it. He would never get enough, and he knew unless they came to some sort of agreement – or World War IV – he'd be stuck having to screw Blair look-alikes. The thought was not very appealing.

He could hear the clatter downstairs when he was done. Blair was eating breakfast. He checked himself in the mirror to make sure he looked as dashing as ever and went down the stairs. She was sitting prim and proper at the kitchen table, delicately eating her yogurt and grapes, taking a bite of her toast every so often. He smirked. There was no sign whatsoever of the feisty vixen he'd slept with the night before.

"You look…put together," he said smoothly, smirking without shame. She looked up at him, almost surprised. She glanced across the table and he realized that there was a plate ready for him as well. He wondered if she'd set it up or if Dorota had insisted. He doubted both possibilities, but he preferred the former.

"We should do this again sometime," he said, sitting down in the chair across from her. Her eyes flickered to his and she looked at him in amusement.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said lightly, taking a sip of her orange juice. His smirk grew wider.

"You're honestly going to pretend last night didn't happen?" he asked, amused.

"Was there something significant that happened last night?" she asked innocently, popping a grape in her mouth, but he saw the smile that slid onto her face. She couldn't hide it if she tried. "Besides the hot break-up sex of course," she said flirtatiously. He was instantly turned on again and wondered briefly if having clothes on this time would be an issue.

Her eyes flitted back to her food and she continued to eat. _Damn_, he thought. _Not right now_. He sighed briefly and directed his attention to his plate, eating at will. Then he looked up at her again.

"So, we're not friends, we're not lovers…" he paused, hoping she'd contradict him. She continued to eat her food, apparently having a magazine at the table as well which she seemed to be focusing on. "Are we enemies?"

Her eyes flitted back to his and she smiled smugly. "I believe our 'break-up sex' could also be labeled as 'hate-sex', don't you think?"

His eyes darkened. "You could say that…"

She reached for a napkin across the table and dabbed at her lips, somehow managing to avoid wiping any lip gloss off whatsoever. _Good_, he thought. _I want to wipe that damn glossy shine off you_. The napkin would not get such a privilege.

"Well then." She cleared her throat and he noticed that her plate was thoroughly cleared. He recalled that he'd barely touched anything on his plate. He wasn't surprised. He very much would rather taste the brunette goddess sitting across from him at the table. "I guess that means we're enemies." She smiled brightly.

"Enemies with benefits?" he asked hopefully. Her eyes raised to his, shining as brilliant as the sun. His heart beat faster. Then her gaze darkened though, and not in a good way. He grew vary wary.

"I _hate_ you, Chuck," she said coldly. "Last night was a _mistake_ – a coincidence, an exception, whatever you want to call it. And it's _not_ happening again."

His brows furrowed. He was becoming increasingly worried and tried very hard not to show it. _What had happened to her flirtatious afterglow mood? How had it vanished so quickly? _Confusion definitely colored his face when hers smoothed over again. She stood to her feet, carrying her plate with her as she traveled across the kitchen to the sink.

"You're going to have to fight for it," she said with a sigh, clearly not believing he would achieve. She left the room after the plate clattered into the sink. He heard her heels click repeatedly as she moved across the floor. The translation he got from her words was this: _fight for me, fight for me, fight for me_. He didn't know where the hell they stood and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. He'd done so much damage already. But life wouldn't be living if he couldn't have her in some way or another, and he wanted her _so_ badly. If he pushed her hard enough, she wouldn't be able to resist him, just like she hadn't been able to resist him the night before when he'd ruined everything again, after they'd sworn a truce – a treaty, to mend their ways, to move on. The sex proved one thing besides the obvious attraction. There was no way they were anywhere near ready to, or even willing to move on. Neither wanted to either, even if it was the right, _healthy_ thing to do.

Besides, hate and love were such a thin line, and for the two of them they were almost exactly the same. Both emotions were felt with such intense emotion that they simply could not be converted into friendship or god forbid, being _acquaintances_. So yeah, they would hurt each other – both of them this time – because they were too tempting to ignore, the most luscious on the grape vine, and they had to have a reason to make love so viciously.

_Hell yeah, he was going to fight for her._ And eventually, he'd do it so it wouldn't hurt anymore.

….

A/N: Not exactly sure if this is where I meant to go with this fic or not…*hmms* I just get the feeling that on the show they're going to discuss their "relationship" and it's going to end in them momentarily having this heart-wrenching heart break that will end in them sleeping with each other because Blair can't forgive him. So…yeah, without this being centuries long, this was as much as I could do! Haha. It's definitely a lot less serious than I'd intended, but I blame the promo. I mean, it was hot and feisty and sexy as hell, not to mention pretty 'light-hearted', if you could call it that. Lol. Anyways, REVIEW! I'm sensing this'll be a 2-part. We'll just see what 4x07 & the 4x08 promo look like exactly. ;)


	2. Sex is a Practice

A/N: Yes, I'm continuing it, and as a multi-chap, not just a 2-part. If I fall in love with the events of the next few episodes on the show, I may include them in here, just in a somewhat different way. I can't help it. I need a lighthearted fun sex story like this. lol. Review!

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

….

**Ch.2—Sex is a Practice**

He wasn't sure if it was supposed to be this easy or not, but she was back in her bedroom when he finished his breakfast. He smirked slyly as he watched her brush her hair for what must have been the millionth time. She looked perfect – perfection as always. Anything less would be unacceptable for a Waldorf, and for a Bass too. Briefly his fingers traced over the top of his hair, making sure it was all in place, and then looking down at his tucked in shirt and found that something was indeed missing.

"Your jacket's downstairs in the—"

"Dining room," he smirked, walking towards her. He no longer cared about the jacket. True, it was a necessity and he would not leave the house without it, but she looked entirely too irresistible in her short prim skirt and satin shirt to match. Her ass and waist were accentuated and when he was within a foot of her, her scent wafted through his senses. She was intoxicating.

"I can always get it later," he whispered huskily into her ear, pulling her flush up against him so that she could feel the evidence of his arousal on the small of her back. He heard her try to stifle back a wicked moan, try to show that he had no effect on her whatsoever and that last night had still been a _mistake_, as she'd put it. But, they were standing just diagonally to the mirror on her vanity, where he got a perfect view of her desire-closed eyes and a gasp of surprise and longing. He smirked.

"You _want_ me," he whispered into her other ear. He felt a fist form in her right hand, and with a sheer act of willpower, she pressed her heel into his foot, which unfortunately for him was not enclosed in a shoe. He could not close his mouth fast enough. An exclamation of pain flew past his lips before he had the chance to have a second thought.

"I'm going to be late for class," she said lightly, grabbing her purse and a few books, and trotting gracefully out of her room. He heard the elevator ding about a minute or so later and knew he was doomed. He was setting himself up for disaster, but he couldn't help it. He _wanted_ her, for so much more than friendship and hate-sex obviously, but it was proving to be difficult to make her do otherwise.

He looked around her room, in search of something to distract her with, something to make her grow horny as hell until she came to him, begging for a release. If there relationship was going to be strictly sex, he was going to make it as interesting as possible. And if they were still 'enemies', what better way to display their hatred than to seduce and then refuse to give in? He found the plan absolutely perfect, especially since he didn't want to hurt her again. He'd never really wanted to to begin with, he'd just found it necessary. If she had told him that night in her foyer that she did actually still love him and was had just refused to tell him because she hadn't forgiven him yet, he wouldn't have laid a hand on her.

Rummaging through her vanity and her dresser drawers, he got distracted by her panties, bras and lingerie. He forced himself to keep moving though. The sight of those items would look far better on Blair herself, and if his plan worked out, which obviously it would, he'd be seeing them on her every night. The possibility heated the blood in his veins.

He found a journal amidst the magazines she had near her bed. He never recalled her having a _diary_, but it was definitely intriguing. He'd always wanted to know her thoughts so much sooner than she confessed them to him, if she confessed them at all. Both of them were known for their delayed meaningful moments, epic speeches, words that would change everything between them – for better or worse. Also, the very real possibility that she'd written about him in her _journal_ was very exciting. It would be perfect to use against her and absolutely necessary in his next act of seduction. Actually, in his next seduction maneuver after she'd come back home. He'd have to get her alone at Columbia first. He couldn't let her get through a whole day of classes without a good fuck. After the night they'd had together, he hardly wanted to go more than a few minutes without being inside her again.

Visions of her naked body writhing beneath him flooded his mind. He shook himself from the temptation to dwell on such images for the entire morning. He opened the textured book and flipped to where a thin red ribbon marked the spot she'd last written in. He gawked at the date, in disbelief that she'd actually updated her journal that morning. _It must've been while I was in the shower_, he thought. He could not think of any other time. While he was asleep or eating breakfast were options, he contemplated. But for some reason he decided to go with the time frame when he'd been in the shower. He'd been in there for a long time after all.

He crossed the room and sat down on her bed, starting to read.

_Dearest Audrey,_

He smirked, amused by the fact that she actually wrote to her idol.

_I had sex with Chuck last night._

His smirk grew into a smile. He was _definitely_ going to enjoy this entry.

_I know, I know, I shouldn't have. But you should have seen him, Audrey. He was simply irresistible. Him in his perfect black suit and of course the maroon shirt and accessories to match my much envied over Waldorf original dress. He couldn't resist me in it, I'm sure. _

"Damn right," he muttered.

_The fact that I'd been teasing him all day obviously sent him over the edge. In hindsight, I can see that I obviously wanted him to lunge at me so seductively. I'd probably been planning it since the spark I felt when we agreed to the initial truce._

"I knew it," he whispered on a scoff.

_It just broke my heart._

His face fell, and he brought the book closer to his face, wondering if the details, her very real thoughts, were actually in front of him. He was beginning to think it was all a dream. He slid his fingers over the next words, desperate for the dried ink on his fingers.

_He really believes we were never meant to be. _

His eyes closed in anguish, nearly shaking at the written words right in front of him. His fingers splayed across a small slightly darkened spot over the words. It looked like dried moisture. _Tears._

_Sleeping with Jenny just proved that. _

His breath caught in his throat.

_I didn't want to shake his hand, Audrey. Despite the fact that I was the one that crossed the threshold and instigated the whole ordeal, because shaking his hand would have been admitting to myself and him that he was right, that it was fate, and we were doomed to work all along. I didn't want to believe or accept that at all, because honestly, Audrey, from the moment I fell in love with him I thought he was it for me. That was why I fought so hard, through __everything__._

He swallowed hard, daring to continue. In the back of his mind, he wondered how he had not come across this journal before. He knew though what the answer was. He'd had no need to go in search of her thoughts when they were together. Everything had been perfect.

_I obviously had to accept his terms though. I just can't forgive him for what he did. He crossed a line that I can't forgive. My heart won't let me. This is the way things have to be. Perhaps we were always meant to be enemies. After all, if Nate hadn't been in the picture, who knows how we might have met? Things certainly never would have turned out the way they have now. Maybe I would have been better off. He's already made it very clear that everything I did for him inevitably meant nothing._

His fingers tightened on the edges of the book and then he slammed it shut, too enraged and guilt-filled to read another word. Despite his frustration, he carefully placed the item back where he'd found it. If she realized that he'd seen it then his plan would blow up into a million pieces and he'd have to start over from square one all over again.

He looked around her room frantically, in search of something that would make a good excuse for him appearing out of nowhere at Columbia. Of course he was no longer warring on her, even if he'd decided only half an hour earlier that hurting her would grant him access to her body again and again. The way she still hurt condemned him from doing so. He'd find another way to get through to her that somehow wouldn't touch on her deep heartfelt feelings, at least not at first. He dug through her headband drawer and found a headband that he decided matched her outfit even more perfectly. He grabbed it, stalked out of her bedroom and grabbed his jacket on the way out.

_He can't know that I still love him. I'm sure you understand, Audrey…_

….

Finding her had been easy. For the most part he guessed it would be, since he had her class schedule and the buildings on campus memorized, but after the emotional roller coaster he'd been on since reading part of her diary entry for this morning up until now, he wasn't sure he could think straight enough to focus on where she might be. Now she was in between classes and would be for the next couple hours. It was 2pm, so he guessed she would be walking in the courtyard ordering her minions around. He was convinced the sight of her amusing, very queen-like display would calm down his senses and make his task of seducing her much simpler.

As if she'd just waltzed out of a successful court trial, she walked forth in an in-control pace, her minions struggling a bit to keep up on the long courtyard sidewalk. She was smiling with pursed lips, willing the girls beside her to both fear and love their beloved queen. He smirked despite himself, and, as expected, his nerves and conflicted feelings dissipated. She caught sight of him as he stood to his feet from the bench and started walking towards her. She didn't halt to a sudden stop as he'd expected, but she did slow down quite a bit, and much to his surprise again, she smiled coyly at him.

"Ladies," she said when he was in range. "I have to speak to someone," she said, not even wasting her time to looks at them. When they didn't move her lips tightened. "In _private_," she snapped, though still without breaking his gaze. The girls were obviously tense, but they only slightly wavered from where they stood. The girls looked at each other confused and then finally noticed him. "Leave," she said forcefully, her voice rising slightly. The girls obediently flitted off to some unknown region of the courtyard where they dared to talk amongst themselves instead of watching their leader with the utmost precision and awareness.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, sounding slightly annoyed as she made to look so very above him and the situation. Briefly his mind flitted to the image of her being above him, naked and rocking in fluid circular movements. He forced himself to concentrate on the task at hand. Still, he could not help but smirk. It was obvious by her façade that she had secretly been waiting for him to show up all day.

"I'm impressed," he said. She raised her eyebrows. His eyes flitted over to her minions now halfway down the courtyard. "You've already got them trained." She lowered her chin, clearly deciding he was worth talking to in a friendly manner now. She smiled slowly and her eyes glittered. He tried very hard to avoid an erection. The gloss on her lips still remained from earlier that morning at breakfast. In fact, if he was not mistaken, it was even glossier. _She must have reapplied_, he thought darkly, even more determined to take her into a secluded place and peel the layers off.

"It doesn't take much when they've already decided you're their idol." She shrugged. He nodded, watching her. It seemed she was as lost in a trance as he suddenly was. She blinked, shaking herself back to reality. "So," she said, glancing down at his hand, "you came all this way to bring me my headband?" she asked, not sounding impressed in the least. It was clear she found the excuse quite futile.

_Bitch-mode_. He smirked, absolutely loving it. Again he imagined her torturing him with some painful foreplay. It was becoming very hard, he realized, to keep himself from thinking of her in a sexual manner. Going over five months without managing to sleep with her was clearly a stupid decision on his part.

He took a step towards her. "This one would accommodate your ensemble far better than the one you've put on," he said huskily. He could see her tense up – _in desire_, he decided. She looked at the headband he now had lifted halfway. She examined it with her eyes, but then reached out to grab it. _She'd make it look like she needed to hold it in her hands to inspect in further_, he thought. Of course it was just secretly an excuse to touch him. Just in case though, he deliberately handed the headband over to her in a way that would make their fingers touch. Her eyes shot to his in that instant. He noticed by the swallow that appeared and disappeared on her long elegant neck that she was quickly becoming aroused. The air felt very thick around him too.

She stole the accessory away from him quickly and looked at it briefly in the light. She cleared her throat. "It would work very well," she said, unable to meet his gaze. He felt cool suddenly, very in control, but that didn't mean his heart wasn't racing. Finally she looked up at him. "But I'd have to see it in a mirror to be sure."

He could have sworn he stopped breathing. So, she'd done it. She'd let herself come undone. She would no doubt regretfully mention this in her diary entry later on, but for the moment he didn't care. He hadn't needed to hurt her gratefully. In fact, she'd caved in rather easily. He was sure this kind of feat wouldn't come often, but he was quite willing to grasp hold of it while it was displayed so invitingly in front of him.

"Wait here," she said slyly, smirking. And just like that she'd risen from the ashes, come out of her heated state just enough to gain some sort of control and not succumb to the overwhelming whirlwind of a bitch in heat.

She walked away towards one of the building. He stood still for about ten seconds before casually walking afterwards. She said nothing as she crossed the courtyard and entered the building, but he knew she knew he was behind her. He could almost see the hairs rising on the back of her neck. Out of the corner of his eye before the entered the building, he caught a glimpse of her minions completely leaving the courtyard. He didn't care to mention it though. After all, their queen was _very_ occupied at the moment.

He leaned against the wall outside the bathroom after she went in. Two girls came out and then he heard the lock secure itself. He smirked and moved in front of the door, knocking lightly.

"Uh…I'm almost done!" she called out, sounding very much in a frantic hurry. He smirked and leaned against the wall just a few inches from the door where he stood.

"_Please_ let me in," he said lazily. "My class is going to start soon and it's on the other side of campus. I'm in desperate need of some…" he paused, choosing his words carefully. "Release."

The shuffling behind the door suddenly stopped. Then he heard her feet softly travel to the door. She opened the door just enough so he could see her entire face. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were brilliant. Her hair was missing its headband. He did not look into the room to see what had become of either of the hair accessories. He pushed his way into the bathroom, locking the door behind him. She did not have a chance to respond since his way of entrance had been forcing his full lips against her glossy ones. Whatever intentions she'd had by locking the door were clearly gone. He pushed her into the large empty stall at the back of the room and hefted her skirt up to her waist. Her legs twisted around him and within moments he was thrusting inside her.

…

A/N: I have a feeling this fic is going to be very, _very_ smutty… You've been warned. Lol.


	3. Lusty Hesitation

A/N: First off – O.M.G. I didn't think I'd live to the day to see that much CB hotness onscreen. WOW. Secondly, go read **SaturnineSunshine's oneshot**, "_Just One More_" RIGHT. NOW. You'll regret it if you don't. Seriously. Best oneshot on the morning after I've ever seen. *decides not to mention self hasn't read any others XD* It tops this fic by a million. Go read it. And thirdly? *shrug* I really liked how everything played out in 4x07 (regarding CB), so I'm gonna do my best to smush most, if not all, of the scenes – as a reference – into this fic, even though it was supposed to just be off the promo. Heh. Wish me luck! Lol. Oh, and the last thing…sorry it took me so long…hahaha. I am indeed still writing this, and will be for awhile. XD

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

_(P.S. This chapter is VERY __**M**__-rated, esp. the first scene. You've been warned. ;p)_

….

**Ch.3—Lusty Hesitation**

_He didn't know if she was surprised by his actions. Giving in immediately, giving in to his sexual impulse certainly showed that she wasn't, but she had looked at him quite confused during those first few moments beforehand. Regardless, she had not pushed him away and he thought he'd never been so filled in a frenzy with lust. He knew he could have gone home and called in half a dozen call girls to pleasure him, but it would have never measured up. He always wanted Blair first. He only resorted to call girls, or others, when she wasn't available. She hadn't pulled away this time. That meant she was his for the taking and it was going to be the best sex he'd ever had._

_ After those first hazy thoughts though, designated to wondering how this whole situation had developed beyond Dan being a moron and him somehow feeling guilty and like he'd ruined everything just by showing up at the party and looking like a culprit, being the subject of spewing those venomous words that sat side-by-side with the words that practically shouted that she loved him. When those thoughts blanked out from his mind, all that was left was the physical. It felt like he was having her for the first time all over again, except now a much more powerful emotion than he'd ever realized was behind it all – love coated in hate. He'd never enjoyed hate-sex so much, most likely because he'd never ever had hate sex with anyone else other than Blair Waldorf._

_ In a slow dizzying half-circle, Chuck found himself pushing Blair just a few inches short of the edge of the dining room table – correction: piano. The dining room table had been for round two. There had been three rounds before falling asleep and waking up a little achy splayed across the mahogany dining table. It took little effort to lift Blair up and set her up on the piano's sleek top. It was smooth beneath his brief touch and he gloried in that – somehow taking a brief moment from his in-heat state to recognize the beauty of ease when taking a girl's clothes off. Surface location had almost everything to do with that._

_ After she was firmly situated, his hands groped her entire backside. He couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to. It'd been far too long since he'd groped her, let alone slept with her. The fact that he was doing one and about to do the other momentarily nearly made him go insane. She was so delicately soft beneath his fingertips. The satiny feel of her maroon dress and black bow made for an interesting shift from skin to dress, one that he was quickly losing interest for. Still, his whole body was on the brink of exploding – just like he'd said – with lust. He couldn't bother himself to think long enough to make his hands function in undressing her properly. The fact that one of her hands had curled around his neck and the other was making an attempt to unbuckle and unzip him made thinking even more difficult._

_ The feel of her hand slightly gripping his crotch drove him insane. He had to distract her somehow, get her even more disoriented than both of them clearly were. It was the only way he'd be able to regain some control before coming in his pants, like the way he'd nearly done all evening. He pressed himself closer against her and gripped her waist, pulling her equally close. He kissed her like his life depended on it, their tongues going ablaze inside the moist heat of their mouths. Vaguely he wondered if he was still breathing, but the sting of her effect on him was overwhelming and that thought was gone too._

_ They parted for what must have been a millisecond and he had no idea why. Maybe he needed just a tiny amount of space away from her to keep her from unzipping him entirely or even completely forcing his shirt out from the waistband of his pants. But he felt how desperate she was for him. Her nails were digging into his jacket and he wondered what the hell he was still doing with so much clothing on, what the hell they were both doing with such unneeded amount of fabric. He forced his mouth back on hers again, more desperate than ever. His kisses were more feverish now, quick, thorough, more open-mouthed than ever before, and his hands slid all over her back, gripping at her curves and roughly tangling through her silken hair. The need to have her inside him was almost deadly. He was consumed with heat and pure unadulterated lust. He was busting through his pants, especially now that she had successfully unzipped and unbuckled him. Her tight little body encircling him further sent his mind whirling, and her moaning was almost unbearable. Her little gasps caused his heavy grunts and groans. If he did not need her on the edge of the piano right where she was, he would have pushed her away just a little to give his erection room to breathe._

_ Next went the jacket. He'd made a few futile attempts to get it off, but his hands had been so preoccupied with Blair Waldorf's body that they had hardly gotten him anywhere. Blair with her nimble fingers though, managed to simply slide it half-way down his arms and he forced himself to take that one brief second to finish ripping the garment off of his body to where it landed somewhere on the floor. Then, he went back to kissing her. He simply couldn't get enough. And the fact that she had not lost any clothing herself was becoming a serious issue. He ached to get inside her, and he knew if neither of them could wait, at least one item of clothing would have to be gone from her body. He reached his hands up beneath her dress until he felt the straps of her black garter. He struggled a little in ridding her of the item, but as soon as it was gone, he reached back under her dress and felt for her lacy thong, hardly realizing how her stocking had fallen past her knee on the leg he'd dragged the garter down. Her high-pitched gasp made him even harder. He pulled at the thong, his fingers squeezing her ass cheeks for one lingering moment before sliding the garment down her long legs with some difficulty. The atmosphere in the room was suddenly ten thousand times as hot, sticky, and thick as it'd been before._

_ Her head fell back as he returned from the task of stripping her of the small garment. She was barely holding onto him and he felt one of her arms slide back so she could brace herself with her hand on the piano. His lips attached themselves to one side of her neck and then the other. Soon enough her arm was wrapped back around him, though weakness was obvious in her demeanor. She hadn't reached for his penis in at least ten seconds. The knowledge that he was conquering her heated the blood in his veins, but he still wanted her tightly wrapped around him. He guided one of her hands to the waistband of his pants where she seemed to grab hold onto some more control. Her other hand snapped around to grab hold of his waist. Miraculously she straightened herself enough not to say as he continued nipping at her neck and slaughtering her with his possessive kisses._

_ She pushed his pants over his hips, slipping a condom out of the pocket and placing it on the piano beside her before they hit the ground. The boxers weren't far to follow, and he nearly came in her hand when she took hold of his long thick member and squeezed. He grunted shamelessly and pressed himself closer against her, feeling off the one shouldered sleeve that was attached to her dress. The strapless bra easily unsnapped in the back and he feasted on her breasts, palming one of them in his hand until the nipple grew hard against him, sending shivers wracking throughout his entire body._

_ He felt Blair's fingers as they unbuttoned his shirt as fast as they could whilst trembling. It was even more difficult to breathe when she undid his bowtie, almost literally cutting off his air supply. He had licked, nibbled and nearly swallowed both of her breasts and held them in his hands so much so that he did not even see coming her next move. She pulled his head closer to hers, forcing him to kiss her body more intimately. She also pushed up against him and that sent the always reliable warning bell flashing in his head. He reached for the condom blindly and slipped it onto his penis. Then, he lifted his head to her face and savagely took her mouth once more. He pushed her dress further down and allowed her once again to push his shirt off by its sleeves. He saw the fiery, heated look in his eyes and knew she was preparing for him to take her right there. He pulled her a little closer to him before she could have another thought and plunged straight up into her tight core. She moaned loudly and gasped into the still stifling heat around them. He grunted and repeated the motion over and over until she was breathless and calling his name until she couldn't speak anymore. He could feel beads of sweat dripping all over his face and falling into the crevices of his body. _

_ She pushed down onto him until they'd set a steady, fast, fierce rhythm. It wasn't long before he was calling out her name as well. Her legs wrapped tightly around his sweaty waist and her hair falling over his shoulders, her breasts pressed firmly against his chest and melding together with his large hands whenever they were not moving her hips into deeper thrusts…all of it was so completely, outrageously, exactly what they needed. They were like wild animals, deprived of both food and water for a whole winter long. Desperation and hunger seized them like wolves. One climax and shaking limbs were not enough for their hate-inspired consummation. Blair pulled him up onto the piano with her and flipped him over, so she was riding him and forcing a faster tempo, one that – at least initially – he could not even keep up with. He fell harder and faster than he'd ever gone before. In the midst of his hazy state, he realized he'd been waiting for this all summer, since the end of winter if he was being honest, or maybe even his entire life. He didn't know if he could say the same for Blair, but her responses and sexual enthusiasm gave him an above satisfactory high. After only five minutes of climaxing once again, Blair pushed both of them off the piano, no doubt in search of another location to fuck. It was him though who pinned her to the dining table and pushed her down onto it, sliding into her wet folds before she'd even felt the wood beneath her back._

"Mr. Bass?"

Chuck was jolted out of his trance, the same trance he'd been stuck in since he woke up earlier that morning. True, he'd slept with Blair since then, but it was the one that had started it all that refused to leave him alone. Truth be told, he didn't want it to. He looked up at his driver who seemed to appear particularly confused.

"What is it, Arthur?" he asked, sounding somewhat bored.

"You addressed me, sir," he said. Chuck's brows furrowed.

"No, I didn—_ohh_…" Realization dawned. In the midst of his flashback he'd come to a realization that had suddenly come back in one blazing gust. He cleared his throat, not allowing for a repeat of the flashback to deter him any longer. "Pick up lots of condoms."

Arthur nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, as Chuck closed the crystallized window between them.

…

The giggles made him smirk when he exited the elevator. Of course he hadn't expected her to bring Serena back with her, despite the fact that they went to the same school, but it would make things interesting, and he was all for good games. What made it even better was that the two girls didn't even seem to notice his arrival. Very casually he strolled into the foyer, and eyed the various rooms for Dorota. She was nowhere in sight.

"Dorota?" Blair called out. He smirked to himself. He inclined his head to the sound of feet padding down the stairs. Both Blair and Serena halted mid-way down. The brunette was staring at him in shock bordering on disgust. The blonde looks almost joyfully. She smiled coyly, glancing back at the two of them. Clearly all she'd seen was Blair's profile, he decided. Not that it mattered to him. In fact, it probably worked in his favor.

"Chuck," she said almost cheerily. She glanced over at her best friend. "Everything's still good between the two of you, I gather?" She raised her eyebrows in question.

Blair turned her head slowly towards her and pasted a tight, fake smile on her face. "Why would I do anything to risk your friendship, S?"

Serena smiled warmly and squeezed her arm gently. Then, she walked past her and down the rest of the stars. Blair's expression spread rapidly to panic. Chuck was amused. It seemed Serena wasn't even going to attempt to keep an eye on them. She really believed that after their _treaty_ had been signed that everything would be just peachy, as if they'd always been friends from the start and there had never been any hate or love between them. This fact overjoyed him to no end.

"W-Where are you going?" Blair asked, the panic evident on her face and how she reached for her best friend when she was so clearly out of reach. She grabbed a hold of the railing at the last moment. Chuck raised his eyebrows and his eyes twinkled with amusement when her gaze dashed back to his. His hands slipped into his pockets.

Serena's golden hair whirled around her when she turned back to her best friend as she waited for the elevator. "I'm going to see Nate." Blair paused, clearly not prepared for that answer. She relaxed on the step and crossed her arms across her chest. Chuck decided he liked to see her all confused and skeptical. He also like the fact that her slight dishevelment on the stairs had caused her skirt to ride up a little and in fact was caught by some hardly noticeable nail peeking out from one of the railing legs. He hoped she wouldn't move so he could catch her there once Serena left. He was very sure he was going to be able to nail her within minutes of the blonde's departure, seconds if he was feeling cocky enough.

"Nate?" she asked. Serena nodded and flushed a little.

"Yeah, we've actually been talking a lot more lately, ever since your birthday party in fact, which I've been meaning to thank you for." She smiled like a giggly little girl. Blair scoffed.

"What were you doing there with _Nate_?"

Both Serena and Chuck raised their eyebrows. Blair felt the heat creep up in her face. "What I mean is, you came together? I thought he was still pissed at you over Dan, and…he'd just broken up with Juliet, so…" Serena averted her gaze and very suddenly Blair was well aware of the reason for Nate's consistency in her best friend's life at her party. Chuck could see it plain as day. It was like having subtitles on the bottom of the screen. His amusement peaked another level entirely when he realized his blonde step-sister had some new scandal brewing in her life and it would most definitely be to his advantage to find out what it was.

He took one step towards them, and the quiet sound seemed to break all train of thought where they were concerned. Both female heads snapped towards him, and he was honestly taken aback for a second. He cleared his throat.

"Some new scandal you'd like to share, _S_? New _beau_ that's forbidden, perhaps?"

Serena's eyes widened in horror. Blair's did too, but she looked away. _Damn_, he thought. _Right on the marker_. He smiled slowly. The blonde's head turned to her best friend's. Chuck was sure she was glaring. Under her breath, he was sure Blair muttered something about not telling him and that _she_ was her best friend, not him, which slightly hurt but he was too cocky to care much about it. He couldn't be too positive about it though. All he knew was that Serena turned and walked away only looking slightly like she'd forgiven the brunette still perched on the staircase. Blair was about to walk towards her as the elevator opened, but she found herself stuck on the nail. Chuck smiled slowly to himself again.

"S!" Serena tucked herself inside the elevator, but still Blair called out. "S! I didn't tell him, I swear! We've only been in the peace treaty for like a day!" She could not manage to get herself unhooked without ripping the skirt. It seemed that was the more important detail at the moment. He wondered if she would have just slipped the skirt off and gone to her best friend if he hadn't been there. The image of her running in her undies towards the elevator in broad daylight blinded his eyesight momentarily. It seemed very clear to him afterwards that she wasn't wearing any clothes at all. He blinked several times and forced himself to concentrate enough to see Blair in all her clothing.

"You are unbelievable," she huffed. His eyes lifted to her face. He imagined she'd be stalking towards him practically flowing fire out of her eyes and smoke out of her ears if she were not caught. He just watched her struggle with the hook. He pursed his lips and took a couple more steps towards her, his hands still successfully snug in his pockets.

"Am I?" he asked curiously, his gaze lingering on her pristine face. She did not seem to notice. But her eyes were still darts probably meant to wound him. He was quite aware of the fact that he could just walk alongside the staircase in the foyer in order to release her of her current anguish of being stuck on her step, but the more seductive route was always more appealing to him. He walked up the stairs to where she stood and sat down on the step, releasing her skirt from the daunting hook and standing back up. It was clear she was holding back an insult and he was pleased at the fact that she could not release it because he had just fixed her most recent problem. Her lips stayed pursed furiously for several long seconds, turning pale as she stared him down.

"I believe the words you're searching for are _thank-you_."

Her eyes narrowed, and that was all he needed to see. He knew this was going to be good. She was furious at him for harmlessly ruining some trivial bonding she'd been having with her best friend. He couldn't believe it'd been so easy, but it would only make pinning her to either the stairs or the upstairs wall even more enjoyable. _Hate-sex_ was suddenly his favorite kind in the whole world, and since he didn't really hate anyone else, Blair was the perfect target. He gathered she felt the same way, even if she would not admit to it.

"You are despicable."

"_Ooo_." He looked intrigued. "New adjective, I _like_ it."

She fumed. He honestly thought she was going to explode into smoke and ashes right in front of him. Instead though, she moved past him down the stairs, careful not to touch him. He smirked at her attempts. They were futile, obviously. He followed her through the foyer, grabbing her arm before she could reach the sitting room. She spun around faster than he'd expected, right into him in fact. She backed away quickly. He looked alarmed briefly but then calmed himself.

"I was just guessing," he said with a shrug, scolding himself for half-apologizing for the incident. Her eyes narrowed and his guilt evaporated. _So, he'd succeeded after all, and without even trying_.

"You didn't _have_ to guess." She jabbed him in his chest with her finger. He grabbed her finger before she could pull it away.

"Oh, but I'm _so good_ at guessing," he purred, pulling her finger in to kiss it. She pulled it away before it reached his lips and he smirked. She stumbled back a little and then evidently decided to evade him by going up the stairs. "Poor decision making on your part, B." She continued her climb up the stairs. "There are _beds_ up there." She tensed for a couple seconds, but didn't stop walking. He smiled, having entirely too much fun. He counted to three slowly and then went quicker than normal up the stairs. He heard her sigh of relief and saw as her form just faded into her bedroom. He smirked and walked to the end of the hall. The door slammed in his face and he heard the lock just when he got there. It was very reminiscent of earlier that afternoon. He enjoyed it.

Smirking, he knocked on the door. "Come on, B. Open up." Silence was all he got in response. "We're enemies, Waldorf. We tell each other _everything_." Clearly aware that she was not going to get rid of him any time soon and very irritated by that fact, the door swung open to a furious Blair Waldorf still fuming in his face.

"Chuck, if you don't get out of here right now, I…" she sighed, looking entirely defeated. He looked at her, amused, and waiting for the punch line to her threat. "Oh, what the hell," she muttered, and pulled him into her room, violating his mouth with her own before he could take in a single breath.

….

His face collided with a note on the pillow next to him and his arm landed in the empty space that must have contained Blair no more than an hour ago. Her note said something about meeting up with Serena and that he shouldn't be there when she returned, but he paid it no heed. As long as he wasn't in Blair's bed when they returned, he could not really be looked at as suspicious – at least not in Serena's eyes. He couldn't believe Blair hadn't told them they'd broken the treaty. Of course then Serena and Nate might actually take their whole expulsion threat seriously, but since the document was torn up and they hadn't broken article 19 – _no touching rule_ – which had clearly been the stupidest one of them all. _Did they have cooties or something? _They could not be blamed for breaking any rules. They had _touched_ after the fact after all, not while it was still intact. They were enemies again, and there was no rule breaking necessary. Though, he supposed Blair had her reasons for being cautions. The female species were more sensitive to such delicate details.

He sat up in her bed and smiled at the sight of his pants and shirt displayed messily on the floor. She clearly had not felt the need to put them away, something she did almost regularly when they were still together…eventually. He knew she was taking that extra step not to be too intimate, and with just cause too. She supposedly didn't love him and he supposedly hated her, as did she. Pillow talk, shower sex, any sort of out-of-either of their-way kindness was simply too close to coupledom to even be contemplated. Though, it wasn't as if he didn't contemplate it. He wanted to give in to it very badly. _It's only been one day_, he reminded himself. He may have seduced her three times in the last twenty four hours, but that didn't mean it would stick if he didn't strategize properly.

Serena being around would be somewhat inconvenient. Taking Blair to the Empire would work so much better, but at this point it would be impossible to achieve. Unless of course, he worked his magic by getting Blair drunk and dropping her in his bed. Maybe it wouldn't occur to her as unordinary since they'd already had sex three times without really thinking it through. She obviously hadn't thought through this last time when she pulled him into her room out of mere frustration that he'd guessed right about the situation with Serena. He didn't know specifics, but being gorgeous had its predictabilities. He and Blair always inevitably succumbed to each other, another girl was always waiting in line for Nathaniel, and Serena got herself in tricky situations when it came to lovers. Those realities were pretty much set in stone. His sometimes high-strung step-sister had no need to get so riled up. His guess was that after Blair came home everything would be worked out between the two of them. That thought concerned him slightly because it meant that she'd have no need to lunge at him…except of course the possibility that she might still be in his bed. He smiled slowly. _Definitely something he was willing to risk._

He sat up in the bed and swung his legs to the side. Blair still wouldn't be back for hours, knowing her and Serena. They'd probably go out shopping and then to dinner. They might even get a little drunk. Though, it was the beginning/middle of the week, so maybe getting drunk was a little less likely. From when he'd last checked her schedule though, she didn't have a class till late afternoon tomorrow. Serena had one in the morning. That gave him at least a few hours of solace to prepare his next move. It would be easy to seduce her before class – as it had been thus far – but what about after that? He had to get some sort of plan in place or he'd just end up getting stuck in sex-land with Blair Waldorf – something he truly didn't have an issue with temporarily – and have it not mean anything at the end of the day. Maybe she wouldn't move on to someone else, but she wouldn't move back onto him – emotionally speaking – and that was his eventual goal. He'd be right back where they'd started junior year. He'd make her feel all light and bubbly but she'd never reconsider him in a million years. The thought made him feel angry and hurt. He couldn't let history repeat itself. He _wouldn't_.

His hand swept across his face and tumbled through his hair in an attempt to wake himself up. She'd exhausted him, just like the night before and that afternoon at Columbia. He always became re-energized when he saw her next, but since pillow talk had been absent and he'd basically been forbidden to cuddle with her – _probably too intimate too_, he gathered – he was always feeling rather exhausted, at least for the first ten minutes after he woke; sometimes it was half an hour. _Dreadful times. _He looked across the room and saw her journal peeking out from where it'd been before, taunting him. Part of him wanted to race over there and grab it and see if she'd written anything more from their last encounter, but an even part of him knew he wouldn't be able too. Despite the somewhat lighter moments they'd indulged in lately, she was still hurt and he felt it in every word he'd read in that diary of hers. She was still so broken and he couldn't address that so soon, not to her or even to himself. He had to use his seduction as a tool to lure her in, to make her realize _no man_ could make her feel like he could, at least in bed if nowhere else. When that had gone on for a reasonable amount of time, he would suggest she consider giving them another shot, or at least admitting that she still loved him. He didn't know if she still did. She'd been pretty clear on the matter, but what she'd said the day before about searching for him all summer, despite her broken heart, gave him a nagging feeling that maybe she was just trying to keep herself from hurting more. That broke him just to think about, without even having to read more from that journal.

_He should have never opened the damn book to begin with. _

"Miss Blair?"

His eyes widened as he heard the elevator doors chime and Dorota come into the foyer, her short heels clacking on the foyer floor. He felt scared out of his wits for half a second before shaking himself to reality and remembering who exactly he was. He was Chuck Bass. He could charm any woman into bed without thinking twice, his handsome face and limitless cash usually being the key ingredients to his never failing seductive tactics. _Dorota was not a woman he wanted to sleep with though_. He cringed at the thought. She had friended him again on facebook though. Perhaps she would not be a problem for him.

_"Mr. Chuck!" she gasped, finding a sixteen year old Chuck Bass in bed with a seventeen year old Blair Waldorf, hardly wearing a thing. She swatted him out of Blair's room without a moment's hesitation. He heard the beginning of how Blair was scolded as he went out the door._

Chuck pursed his lips and frowned slightly, his eyebrows furrowing. _Then again, maybe she would. _He cleared his throat, reached for his things and tried to look a bit more presentable. Clothing would no doubt help this time.

….

A/N: Omg. This took me ALL DAY. *cries* Well, all afternoon and evening at least. Heheh. I hope you enjoyed it. Please PLEASE review a ton & with details. Lol. This is SO long. I think I deserve some credit. Hehe. Will update soon! ;p


	4. Ammunition

A/N: FINALLY, I finished my outline for this fic. Lol. Sorry for the delay, but that was in fact what was keeping me. Heheh. Turns out, 4x08 wasn't as awesome as I thought it'd be. Lol. Still awesome, but…yeah. Heh. So, the only thing REALLY similar to the show is going to be up through the 4x08 extended promo. Heheh. Though, I have a feeling some things may be similar from the spoilers I've heard coming up, but it's definitely going to go down a semi-different road. Heh. Hope you still enjoy. I'm sure the smut will keep you still reading this if nothing else. XD

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

**Ch.4—Ammunition**

Giggles again. He opened one eye and regained his focus. He'd been taking a nap for the last hour, he realized. As far as he could tell, he'd only been smacked by Dorota once. That was impressive for him. He recalled the incident several times before he actually fell into slumber. It'd been a long time since the faithful maid had scolded him for being in _Miss Blair's_ room. The sound of light footsteps interrupted his thoughts and his quite pleasant sleep however. Blair's bedroom door was closed and closer to the stairwell than Serena's. He wondered if the girls would come in here first. He actually smirked at the possibility. It was true that he was wearing clothes now, but that didn't change the fact that they were rumpled or that he was in Blair's very messy bed. He'd refused to move so much of an inch so that Dorota could straighten the covers. He was quite proud of himself then too for achieving such a feat.

The steps slowed and stopped in front of the door. The giggles and mindless chatter quieted. The knob turned and the door slowly opened. Blair's smiling face dropped the instant she saw him lounging casually on her bed, looking extremely satiated and ready for more. She shut the door hastily and came up with a very lame excuse – pitiful for her really – to get Serena to her own room. He continued to smirk, but allowed himself to finally sit up and scoot to the edge of the bed. He scanned the room for anything of interest to use against Blair when she came back, _something kinky_, he thought. He frowned for a moment when he thought about the possibility that she might intend on sleeping over in her best friend's room.

The perfect solution occurred to him. His doubts and irritations vanished. He stripped himself of his clothes and walked into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and shut the door, keeping it a crack open. He had to give her a _little_ hint as to where he was, in case she doubted, which he was sure she _would_ do initially. She would get Serena to her room – at least, in past experiences this was how it had gone down – and then return to her own as quickly as possible. She'd yank on some part of him, usually his hair, or she'd slap him till he actually wanted to leave. Of course, these were back in the days when he thought she'd come crawling back to him by the end of the day, after some romantic gesture from him. Minus the romantic gesture, things were pretty similar now when he thought about it. That brought a smile to his lips.

"Chuck?" she called, looking about the room. She called for him a couple more times, demanding he come out and then that he would leave immediately, that maybe she'd pretend he hadn't been there at all, or at least not anytime recently. He could tell the exact moment when she spotted his trail of clothes on the floor because her feet stopped moving. That was when he turned on the shower. Her feet padded across the floor again, but now their tempo was much slower. He heard her take a deep breath right outside the door, the light inside the bedroom brightening the shadow created by the indent in the doorway.

"Chuck?" she asked, warily. He cleared his throat, taunting her. Her brows narrowed and she opened the door quickly. "Chu—" She was stopped dead in her tracks at the sight of him before her, completely nude with the glass shower door wide-open so that she could see him completely. He saw her scan his body, seemingly unable to snap her mouth shut. If he hadn't known any better, he would have thought her jaw was attached to her neck.

"Uh-uh…" she made out just barely, her eyes still lingering on him, on some parts of his body more than others. Finally her eyes flashed back to his, probably insistent once more on finding an excuse to get rid of him. "What are you doing in here?" she asked, trying to snap at him and failing. He played with a condom between two of his fingers. He focused on it momentarily.

"Well…" He was well aware of her still unable to take her eyes off of him. His smirk rapidly spread into a wicked grin. "I was thinking," he continued, stepping out of the shower to walk towards her seductively, water dripping down his sides and onto the tiled floor. It was simply wonderful not to hear her scolding him about getting her floor all wet. He pulled her flush up against him, making her well aware of her effect on him, as if she hadn't already seen it since she entered the room. Her face flushing red and her breath catching in her throat only served to encourage him further. "Would you care to take a shower with me, Waldorf?"

Her hands clenched on his back, digging into his skin. He shivered a little and looked at her, his eyes blazing with a heat she clearly hadn't expected, even from the way he'd so sultrily talked and walked over to her. Her nails moved across his back, and soon she was caught up in the moment, not even denying what she was probably sure was so wrong only minutes earlier.

"Undress me, Bass," she whispered hotly against him. His eyes blazed, fusing with hers, their connection becoming even more intense somehow. He leaned forward so that their lips were less than an inch apart.

"Kiss me first," he dared. Her teeth attached themselves to his bottom full lip and tugged. He groaned and she lunged her mouth at his, sticking her tongue into the open space, her arms now wrapped tightly around his neck. The passion in the embrace almost distracted him from undressing her. The tension inside him intensified beyond control though, and he ripped at her clothing. Any barriers preventing skin on skin contact just seemed the worst fault in the world. She was still half-dressed when she pushed him into the shower moments later. It only hardened him further to see her wet blouse sticking to her skin, her peaking nipples perking proud into the fabric, desperate to reveal themselves to him. He pushed her up against the wall and slammed the door shut, enveloping them in the shadow of the bathroom light.

…

He woke to the sound of Serena and Blair talking in the hallway, just on the other side of the door. He sighed, wondering if he'd be waking to this sound for awhile. The thought crossed his mind that maybe Serena could live elsewhere for awhile. He was just easing Blair into the hate-sex thing right now. Offering up his penthouse at the Empire as their next location was out of the question. He was only getting so much from her because he refused to back down on his excellent seduction strategies. As far as he could tell, everything was going as planned. Serena was an unfortunate occurrence, but so far she'd proved avoidable, so he resisted the urge to have her temporarily…_misplaced_.

"I don't have any classes today," she insisted. Serena looked at her strangely.

"I thought you have classes every day, B."

Blair rolled her eyes. "No, though that would be nice." She shrugged on a sigh. "I just go to campus every day, because I enjoy the environment so very much." She smiled brightly. It was clear Serena wasn't buying it, but the brunette paid no heed to it. "I'll see you later, okay? We'll meet for lunch."

The blonde could see she wasn't backing down and so decided to let her best friend off the hook for the time being. "Alright, lunch…"

"Great!" Blair started pushing her towards the staircase.

"You'll tell me what's going on then, right?"

The brunette continued to smile very brightly, the fakest she'd ever done. "I don't know what you're talking about, S, but yes, we will talk."

Chuck heard his step-sister's heels lessen from average to almost nonexistent as she went down the stairs, and then slightly louder again when she reached the foyer. A moment after the sound of the elevator doors opening went off, the bedroom door swung open. He raised his eyebrows in amusement, completely innocent too. His eyes shifted from amusement to hunger in a heartbeat when he saw the silk robe that barely concealed her black nightie and flimsy pajama shorts – _clearly somewhat more modest than what she'd adorned last night_, which had been nothing, even when they'd gone to bed.

The door closed behind her and she strode towards him, climbing on top of the bed and ripping the blankets off of him. His eyes widened in surprise but he couldn't have moved if he'd tried, even if he wanted the chilling effect of the bedroom air to warm him again. Waiting heat was clearly ready for him and unwilling to heat anyone else's veins. His eyes darkened further somehow. His member, having grown erect the moment he heard Blair's voice outside her bedroom, pushing her best friend to leave – clearly so she could rejoin him – was fully hard now. She moved on top of him and sunk in to the hilt. He sucked in a breath and sunk down into the bed. With some ounce of willpower, he pulled the blankets back over them and struggled to maintain some control as she rode him, quickening the pace within seconds. He would have flipped them over if he'd had any sense of reality when she started towards him. He couldn't even remember how she'd slipped out of her two second worn nightwear somewhere between power-walking to the bed from the door.

_She was amazing_, he decided, as if he hadn't already known it beforehand. She was the best lover he'd ever had. He could hardly breathe with the way she rode him, the pace she made, where her hands went, how passionately she kissed him. He groped her, but it was hardly enough. He felt like he was going to explode. Emotions flurried all around him; everything was a blur. But in the dream-like all-consuming haze, he managed to summon just enough strength to cup her breasts, squeeze her ass and grab her hips tightly – firmly – enough to flip them over. She gasped, clearly taken by surprise, but didn't stop her ferocious enthusiasm. She pushed up into him and he groaned, his head falling down onto her chest. He pounded into her, and her nails drew deep scratches into the sweaty surface of his back.

"Chuck—"

"Blair—"

"More. Harder. _Faster_," she groaned.

"God, Blair."

Her climax ripped through her, sending him tumbling after her not long after. Before either of them could catch their breath, he slid down her body, kissing her skin as he went and halted at the opening of her wet, slick mound. It almost looked like it was trying to recooperate as well. He looked up at her, smiling devilishly, yet while still trying to catch his breath. His chest was visibly moving up and down as he struggled to maintain air.

"No, _Chuck_," she pleaded. Her eyes probably would have widened if she'd had the strength. As it was, she could just barely lift her arm to reach for him. His devilish grin did not disappear from his face. If anything, it spread wider across his face. His lips lower to her mound. "Too," she gasped sharply. "Soon!" She screamed. His tongue entered into her and swirled around her clit. His head was forced deeper into her, her fingers grasped tightly in his hair and fiercely demanding he fulfill her needs.

Her head sunk deeper into the pillows and she struggled to restrain her moans. Miraculously, she caught hold of one of his hands and dragged it up to her breast. She could feel the shudder that ricocheted through him. It was an overwhelming feat, but one that didn't keep her from toppling over the edge again as she'd hoped. Because when he did in fact lift his lips to her breasts as she'd encouraged, he put three of his fingers in her core and worked them with the skill of a professional. If he didn't have scratch marks all over his back before, and bite marks across his chest, shoulders and neck, he would now. The wild she-cat in her had been let loose, and continued to do so time and time again. Her fingers wrapping around his member assured him of that and weakened his restraint.

"_Blair_," he groaned, losing air again. But she only squeezed him till he burst. Payback was a rule they always adhered to when in sweaty positions such as this.

…

Her body was soft against him, just as it'd been before, just as it'd always been. He never forgot that feeling of complete warmth and contentment. He called it hate sex, but that didn't mean he didn't watch her when she slept, or stroked the side of her face or the feather-like hairs on her arms. That didn't mean he didn't pull her closer to him and cover more of her with blankets when he saw her shiver. None of that equaled hate sex, and that was why he only labeled it that way when she was coherent enough to discuss it with him, something they'd never officially done in detail. It was frustrating now that he thought about it. But her steady breathing and the vision that greeted him when he opened his eyes made him forget. The sight alone made him believe everything was perfect.

Not too much later, her eyes flickered open and she turned her head to look at him. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was, if this was more than just sex, if it was safe to cuddle, to have pillow talk, or if that would be going too far because they were _enemies_. He wanted to sweet talk her, to cuddle her, to tell her he loved her. But he didn't want to break the moment by bringing reality crashing down around them, by stealing the perfection that he'd indulged in since the moment he opened his eyes. That moment had not lasted long enough. It had hardly been a moment at all, a fraction of one if even that much.

She blinked and started sitting up, scanning the room for the pajamas and robe she'd disposed of in her march across the room over an hour ago. He knew he probably was expected to say something dirty at this point, comment on her ass or her hips or the sight of her hair only half-covering her exquisite neck as she moved to where her clothes lie in her birthday suit. But all he could do was sigh.

"Blair…"

She slipped the silky top and shorts back on and placed her robe on a hook near her closet.

"What is it?" she asked nonchalantly, clearly already planning out the rest of her day. He was just grateful she wasn't denying the incident just previously experienced and wasn't refusing it should happen again.

He cleared his throat and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. "I think we need to talk about this," he said. She turned to look at him and starting walking back towards the bed.

"What's there to talk about?" she asked, sounding genuinely confused. Her brows fused.

He uncovered himself and grabbed his boxers from the floor, along with his pants. He stood and looked at her when he was finished. "All this sex going on. Surely you've noticed." He smirked a little. To his great surprise she didn't blush. She smiled.

"I have noticed in fact. You are quite the seducer, Chuck Bass."

He smirked and started walking towards her. "So, perhaps we shou—"

"Uh-uh." She put a hand up to stop him. His brows narrowed and he froze. She was sending mixed signals, as always seemed to be the case lightly, and it was beginning to infuriate him. He quickly recovered, but slight anger did coat his next words.

"If you're about to tell me this can never happen again, save it."

She scoffed.

"Because, trust me, Waldorf," he started walking towards her again. "You couldn't resist me if you tried." He twisted one of her curls around his finger. She shivered and closed her eyes against his touch, but a moment later her eyes flashed open and she pushed him away.

"I can resist you just fine," she spat. He raised his brows in amusement. "Besides," she huffed. "If we hate each other, it makes no sense that we have sex all the time!" He smiled wide.

"It makes perfect sense," he said simply. "Despite our hatred, we are still trying to get over each other." She avoided his gaze at the comment. "Therefore…" he said, luring her focus back again. She looked back at him reluctantly. "Having non-stop sex will eventually make us bored of each other. The hatred may eventually end and if not," he shrugged. "At least we won't feel so emotionally attached." She looked at him suspiciously. "With hatred or lo—"

"That's ridiculous," she interrupted him. He looked at her expectantly, still amused at her refusal even if it was frustrating beneath the surface. "I am not emotionally involved," she said. He gave her a blank stare, but she clearly was choosing to not interpret it as anything significant. She gathered her robe to her once again, and said something about him needing to leave as soon as possible as she left the room.

Chuck sighed and ran a hand through his hair. His attempt at dealing with the situation had clearly proved to be very unsuccessful. He knew it wasn't the end of his pursuits, but for now he would put it on pause. He found his shirt at the other end of the room and put it on, finding himself very near to where Blair had had her diary strategically hidden the other day.

He'd never told himself that he wouldn't read it again, but in the moment he hadn't wanted to. Sure, reading about how hot she was about him fed his always eager ego, but her vulnerable, heartbroken emotions seemed to appear on the pages almost instantly after he'd started to read, only half-way down the page if he could recall correctly. Plus, even if he did decide to read it again, they'd spent so much time together in the last twenty-four hours that it was highly unlikely that she'd have time to update it.

Those factors didn't equal much of a restraint however. The door was only halfway open and he was already bending down to retrieve the book. He grabbed it and landed back on the bed, turning to the page the red ribbon marked. It seemed she had in fact written another entry, _which was awesome_, he decided. If she could pretend no vulnerable heartbreaking emotions existed in their hate-sex non-pact then he would indulge himself in reading her diary, no doubt to use her lies against her sometime in the future. As it was, he didn't know how else he could prove her wrong. She threw around her declaration of not loving him like it was the best piece of repeat news the world had ever heard.

_Dearest Audrey,_

_I think I'm addicted to Chuck sex._

He smirked, very much enjoying the beginning of this particular piece. He ignored the fact that the last entry had started very similarly.

_It's so bad, but I really can't help it, and it takes my mind off other things._

He was still smiling, his dick becoming hard again, but that didn't stop the warning bells from going off in his head.

_I don't have to think about how badly he's hurt me, because it's __just__ sex. Only physical and it means nothing to me. I'm sure you'd had the experience. Though, to be honest, I would prefer if you didn't tell me about it. For both our sakes._

The warning bells were annoyingly loud now. He couldn't even enjoy her lude comment directed at her very favorite real-live fairytale princess. He wanted to shut the journal, but something made him stop. He just felt like he _had_ to read this, he had to know how badly it hurt for her, because it would serve him right. It would be some sort of ammunition on her end, the kind that killed him more than any ignorance, social destruction, or love interest could have ever done.

_But, enough about that, Audrey. _

"Thank God," he muttered under his breath.

_Let's talk about how hot Chuck is. Even though I don't have a ton of guys to compare him to, he is still honestly the best. Just ask any dumb beauty in all of Manhattan, foreign countries too. There's a reason they sleep with him, and I really don't think it's just for the money, though obviously that's a key factor._

He smirked. Reading about her rant about him being a fantastic lover, the best in fact would definitely work to his advantage.

_I get horny just thinking about it. It's really bad. I don't think he'd even have to try to seduce me at this point, at least not for every single sexual encounter. It's me who lunges at him half the time. It's really bad, Audrey, but what can I say? He's simply irresistible. I mean, if you saw the size of his…_

His eyes dilated. It was like watching porn. Now every time he saw her, these words would ring in his ears. The clash of dishes coming from downstairs told him that he needed to take advantage of his lovely little horny lover. As far as he was concerned, _Serena and her requested lunch could go to hell_.

….

A/N: Enjoy? I hope so. *beams* Review! ;p


	5. Discomfort on Different Levels

A/N: Sorry it's taken me so long to update. I _am_still writing this story, I swear. I just really want to incorporate the SL Chuck's going to have with The Empire being threatened again or whatever. But I shouldn't need to address that for about 5 or so chapters, so perhaps I will update more regularly. XD Thanks as always for the reviews.

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

**Ch.5—Discomfort on Different Levels**

Leaning against the wall at the outward curve of the kitchen, Chuck admired the supple roundness of Blair's ass as she bent over to put more dishes into the lower rack of the dishwashers and close the door of the machine. He smirked slowly, his eyes glistening as they ravaged over the rest of her body, the near transparent silk of her robe riding up the back of her thighs.

"I didn't know you had such fondness for putting away dishes," he commented dryly. She halted for about half a second before straightening slowly and turning towards him. The way she folded her arms beneath her breasts as she leaned back against the counter would in no way help the argument she no doubt intended to bestow on him.

"I thought I told you to leave." Her eyebrows narrowed. Her lips weren't pouty, but they would be soon enough when she realized the lust in his eyes wasn't going to fade.

"You didn't even eat anything," he said, looking across the kitchen. He was oddly curious about the action now, since she'd just come downstairs maybe ten minutes prior. She'd had no time to eat, except maybe finger food. He couldn't even imagine what she had put in the dishwasher to begin with. To amuse and make himself feel better, he decided she'd taken out clean dishes – or dirty ones from the machine – just to make enough noise for him to come and hunt her down. She _wanted_ to be seduced.

He thought back to the words in her journal, all her talk about how hot she was for him and how he didn't really need to even _try_ in seducing her anymore. She looked angry now that he was trying to corner her again, but he knew he could – and would – transfer that irritated mood to lusty in a heartbeat. She knew it too. She was just trying to look convincing enough so that it wasn't obvious that she was desperate to have him again. He nearly chuckled out loud at the realization.

He walked towards her, amused but not surprised that she didn't have a response to his very obvious statement of fact. Because Blair Waldorf hardly put away dishes to begin with, let alone when there really had been nothing to clean up, nothing that Dorota had probably set on her to-do list earlier that morning or perhaps the day before. So, he took the final plate that was in her hand and set it back in the dishwasher. Clean or dirty, it really didn't matter. What mattered was how intensely Blair was looking at him now. He could feel his pants tightening and knew that her stare had everything to do with it. Just by walking over to her he'd won her over. She hadn't been lying in her journal, he thought with satisfaction. Practically one look from him could turn her on. Reason and logic had little impact on her decisions when they were alone together, now that they'd started to make up for their lack of sex during the time since they'd broken up.

"Tell me," he said in a hot whisper, leaning towards her until their lips were less than an inch apart. "Why are you doing a mindless, senseless chore when you could be letting me fuck you for the third time in your bedroom?"

The sensual tone to his voice did not seem to override the cocky question he'd asked her. She was caught up in his heated eyes one moment and then furious the next. Reality had slammed into her at a startling speed, and when she pushed him away she did not even feel the need to stay put simply to enjoy the feel of him beneath her hands another second.

"I didn't _let_ you do anything. You _forced yourself_ on me," she said in a shrill irritated chirp, marching out of the kitchen and away from him as fast as she possibly could. The amusement did not fade from his facial expression, neither did the smirk. He followed her out into the hallway. Just before she reached the foyer, she spun around to see his smug self looking delightedly at her. She decided to ignore the flaring it ignited in her whole body. "And I told you to leave. So…leave," she demanded – not very convincingly.

He advanced on her and she backed up, but not nearly enough. She was even shaking a little, trembling with both fear and excitement. Somewhere in the back of her mind she'd known some defiant words and attitude would not hold up against the great Chuck Bass in his lust-filled haze, but since there was only a small part of her that wanted to resist him, she ignored that logic. She would not find a better solution, such as…well, she would not find one at any point. In hindsight she could not even come up with anything. Because she wasn't trying to. She wanted him to ravish her. Right there. In the front hall closet. Before she'd even gotten properly dressed or showered. Before she'd eaten. Right after she'd pretended to put away dishes, because she knew he'd come after her more so if there was noise. She simply could not tolerate waiting for him to come get her. Who knew how long that would take? It could've been all day! It was safe to say then, that all she offered in resistance was a minor push and a small squeak when he grabbed hold of her waist, spun her into him and heaved her into the closet, sliding the door behind them and enveloping them in darkness with only faint lighting seeping through the open line under the doors.

The jingling of empty hangers was ignored when she forced him against the wood after he'd tried to push her into it. Their mouths were ravenous. Her tongue plunged into his mouth two beats before his in hers, leaving no corner of the darkened caves untouched. Chuck's hands were in her hair, messing it up to a very unladylike degree. It was all he could do not absolutely lose control as she grabbed at him through his pants with one hand and pulled his body closer to her with the other. Her leg steadily traveled up his until it was almost to his hip. The action drove him insane and he lifted her onto him, spinning them halfway around again so _she_ was against the wood.

She ground her hips against his, lowering herself just enough so that her soaking wet panties were pressed on the bulging area below his belt. (She'd taken the liberty of ridding herself of the little silk shorts in the midst of being spun into the closet and set roughly against the wall inside.) He groaned in frustration and set her down, quickly undoing his belt and dragging his pants off with one swift move. He grabbed a condom from his pants and slid it into place. For one breathtaking second he stood still and looked at her. She was as flustered as he was, and he remembered thinking he needed to undress her more, even if she was still in her barely there pajama wear and he'd been idiot enough to put on his clothes. He remembered thinking it was very important that he touch every inch of her, groping, licking, nibbling, etc. But his throbbing dick got the best of him and he pushed her into the wall, ripping her liquid panties off of her and ignoring the small shriek that followed it. She wasn't hurt. She was desperate. He trust up into her melting core, smothering her screams with another passionate, fiery kiss.

…

Her body was slick and gorgeous and sticking to him like a glove. Her gorgeous brunette locks were plastered to her shoulders and her arms were draped limply across his chest and a bit into the small triangle of space behind his back. They had sunk to the floor after their _activities_, and once her breathing had become even again, she'd been out like a light. He'd dozed a little on and off too, but for the most part he just looked at her. She was so very beautiful, and he liked to be able to stare at her, visibly showing how very in love with her he was, without her fighting him on it. Of course she didn't know that he loved her, but as far as she was concerned she didn't love him, so there didn't seem to be a point on telling her anything in that regard. She'd only puff up in a fit of rage, and not the kind that ended in flaming hot sex either.

Blair's words of pure smut in her journal had definitely intensified his ever constant desire for her. Giving in to the temptation of seducing her again had been simple, no questions asked. His dick was making the decision had been easy, very straight forward. But now that things had cooled down, his mind _and_ his heart had reverted back to the _other_ things she'd written in her journal, the things that hurt. He had broken her so badly, and the fact that he couldn't just leave her alone and let her move on was probably incredibly selfish on his part. But he'd given her the option when they'd crossed paths in Paris and she'd insisted on him coming home. She'd also driven away his one hope of starting over and making something of himself that his father could be proud of. Though, now he wondered if Bart Bass was ever particularly a fan of charities. Regardless, he'd had a right to be pissed. Maybe.

"Blair," he said softly, wondering if he could wake her. It _had_ been a good twenty minutes since they'd finished, and they were _still_ in the closet. Comfort if nothing else was as good a reason as any. It wasn't really the reason he wanted her to wake up and speak with him, but it could serve as a good excuse, and for the _most_ part he did have her well-being in the forefront of his mind.

"Mmm," she moaned, shaking her head a little, nuzzling her face deeper into his chest. He felt the stirrings of butterflies in his stomach, but could not let the feeling overwhelm him like it had so many times before. The important thing was that the state Blair was in had the potential to take the course of action he wanted it to take.

"We need to talk, Blair," he sighed. She just moaned again and so he slowly sat up all the way and opened the closet door.

"_Hey_," she complained, squeezing her eyes even tighter shut. She blindly reached out for the door handle and closed it again. Without waiting for it to set in even a second, Chuck reopened the door, grabbed their clothes and brought Blair to her feet.

"We need to talk," he said again.

She rubbed her eyes and roughly put her clothes back on, very slightly aware of him redressing as well. Reality was hitting once again. So, she'd slept with Chuck in her front hall closet. She wasn't about to think about what that meant or even if she'd let it mean anything. What mattered now was that Chuck left because that's what she'd wanted him to do originally and she had to meet Serena in an hour or so for lunch. She needed to prepare herself so Serena didn't magically clue in to what had been happening with her and Chuck since her twentieth birthday party.

"What is it?" she asked, blinking at him to regain her sight. It seemed very bright in the hall all of a sudden. She walked to the large mirror in the other room to adjust to it, and to see if her outfit was to rights. Not that it needed much adjusting since it was in fact just PJs that she was planning on changing out of very soon.

"My robe…" she said offhandedly, realizing that it was the one piece of clothing she no longer had on. Chuck was two steps behind her though, and with the robe grasped in one hand. He held it out to her and she grabbed it, folding it over one arm and continuing to inspect herself in the mirror – pat down her hair and the like. "Thank-you," she said.

"Blair, I think you should reconsider my proposition."

"And what proposition would that be?" she asked innocently, clearly more absorbed in her appearance than she was in any particular thing he might be saying. Or maybe she was just trying to be so the word _proposition_ wouldn't blast the dreadful site of that gorgeous diamond engagement ring in her face.

He cleared his throat, determined not to let her blasé attitude get to him. "A sex pact," he announced, as if it were the greatest thing he could have come up with. She turned to him and looked at him in disbelief, and a little amusement.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, a hate-sex pact I guess you could say," he mused. She blinked once, but he took no heed to it. He looked into the distance, appearing to consider his own proposition for the first time, and what a great idea it would be. "We've been sexually attracted to each other from the beginning…" he began, looking back at her. He could see the wheels turning in her head, and knew that she wanted to contradict him but couldn't. That thought made him smile. "But obviously any other sort of attraction has faded," he shrugged off the truth with pure will and nothing else. "So…" he paused and took a few steps towards her. She stilled, suddenly very tense.

"You do like sex, don't you, Waldorf?" he asked, in that sultry voice of his. A blank expression was all that he got from her. Well, that and another single blink. "With me, I mean," he clarified. To his chagrin she looked a little puzzled now. He took another step towards her. "I mean…" he took some more steps until they were only a foot away. "I satisfy you?"

She swallowed hard, looking to be consumed in heat. The sight of her made him horny, even if she wasn't. It was what he saw and that was all that mattered. But, any vulnerable lust-filled afraid-to-admit things Blair that he might have seen was gone in a heartbeat. Though, he was still pretty sure there were things she was afraid to admit. Her eyebrows narrowed and an angry fire filled her eyes. It was ice cold.

"I believe some time ago I told you to leave," she said crisply. "I have not changed my mind on that matter." His lips parted and his jaw dropped a little in response, but she decided to ignore it and instead moved past him, back out into the hallway and started up the stairs. A great sense of urgency filled him and he was half-tempted to go after her and make love to her right there on the stairwell, so she could feel the pain beneath her back and yet the pleasure of him pouring into her time and time again, and only by him.

But he knew that would not fix things. And until the pact was in place, seducing her day after day, hour after hour, would solve nothing. So, he did what he was told and he left, fairly confident that it would not be forever. Blair Waldorf was nothing if not classy and he'd whetted her sexual appetite. She'd go to none other than him when she needed satisfying. Like a cat without milk hunting down the cow in the barn. The image of Blair sucking him off came to mind. He was fairly sure he was going to enjoy watching her self control shatter to the ground.

…

A/N: Review please? I shall try to be more consistent in my updating of this fic. =)


	6. Waldorf Penthouse

A/N: Sorry for taking so long. This chapter won't be as steamy as the others, but I think you'll like it well enough. ;p Btw, I now have a joint-account with _BookCaseGirl _called **EMOTIONalHURRiCANE**. If you could head on over there and r&r the stories we've started/are starting, that'd be fabulous. Thanks. ;p

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

***CHAPTER DEDICATED TO ****SATURNINESUNSHINE**** – thank-ya, girl, the last couple days have been a ton less stressful than they could've been GG-wise, solely because of you.**

…

**Ch.6—Waldorf Penthouse**

He wondered if his limo driver was getting sick of driving around the Waldorf penthouse, albeit several blocks before turning each corner, for hours on end. It wasn't like Arthur had a choice in the matter, since _he_ was the employee, but Chuck still wondered if he was becoming annoyed. He swore it wasn't supposed to be this way.

He'd followed her orders two days ago – finally – and left her penthouse, making the clear grand gesture that he was going to stop seducing her. Of course he'd expected she'd come after him within a heartbeat, at least by that afternoon, maybe because she couldn't stop thinking about him during her lunch with Serena. But no. Nothing. It irked him. But what bothered him even more was how much _he_ was being affected by it. It turned out he was feeling needier for Blair than he thought he'd be. Something about the whole _waiting for her to come to me_ idea didn't seem to be as appealing as it had been at first glance. It'd only been two days, but he felt like he was _dying_. He'd hardly left his penthouse, and even if Nate had been around 24/7, he got the feeling they wouldn't really speak. Chuck was getting dehydrated with his constant replenishing of scotch. It was getting to him.

Girls flew past him on the sidewalk, alerting no interest whatsoever to him. They were the same sidewalks and the same array of girls, or the same type at least – the type he wasn't interested in. Very suddenly though he felt a buzz in his stomach, a flurry, a spark of something he hadn't felt in two days. Even in his thoughts and dreams it hadn't been nearly this real. He didn't question it. His mouth spewed out words before his brain could stop it and force himself to think.

"Slow down, Arthur." The vehicle smoothly reigned in its speed, while somehow managing to not look overly suspicious in nearly coming to a halt.

It could not exactly a proven fact to any onlooker or even the limo driver peering at his employer through his rear-window that Chuck Bass's face was peeled to the window, but the look in his eyes just as well suggested it. One hand was clenched on the door handle, which thankfully was locked, and the other was pressing into the leather seat beside him. He was holding his breath. It was as if he was if he had never seen a girl before in his life. Arthur straightened himself further in his seat. The soft rustling shook Chuck of his haze.

"Keep driving, Arthur," he muttered, looking away from the window which Blair Waldorf was just casually walking outside of with Serena, shopping bags in side. He sighed painfully and looked out the other window, still trying to rid himself of the happy, cheerful Blair that apparently was having no trouble at all refusing sex with him.

"Are we still circling the Waldorf penthouse, Mr. Bass?"

"Yes," Chuck said without thinking.

"Very well," Arthur said, closing the small window between him. The sliding noise seemed to disappear in the back of Chuck's mind. The seat suddenly felt very sticky beneath his touch. He looked down and examined his fingers pressing into the leather. It was obvious to him now that this plan had not been worth the trouble at all. He was pissed as hell and he couldn't get her out of his head. Seeing her out on the street just now only served to make matters worse.

_"You're never going to let that go, are you?" she muttered, folding her arms across her chest as she sat as far away from him as she could manage. He lips curved into the classic smirk he never seemed to be without._

_"What's that, precious? The fact that you lost your virginity to me in this very limo and we managed to just re-enact it? Again." If he was a little girl, he might as well have been squealing. She turned her head towards him and glared, venomous fire in her eyes. It only served to harden him all over again. Her expression slipped into annoyance when she saw the effects of her glare._

_"You are impossible."_

_He was still smirking, but now he was overly eager. He snuck quietly across the seat, his fingers trembling a little, and touched her shoulder lightly. She tensed but then involuntarily relaxed when she felt his lips press a kiss to the sweaty skin of her bare shoulder. The continued action up to the curve of her neck made her eyes shut tightly in intoxication. The cool air he blew on the moist surface made her nails dig into the insides of her elbows. He kissed down to the very top of her left breast. She visibly shivered._

_"Stop the teasing," she whined softly, half-smiling. She spun into him suddenly and kissed him wildly._

His head shot up. He couldn't figure out if he'd been daydreaming or dreaming, but somehow it really didn't seem to matter. He pressed the button to open the window separating himself and his limo driver.

"The Waldorf Penthouse. _Now_."

"Yes, Sir," Arthur said. Chuck pressed the button again and watched as the small dark window slid shut. He turned his face again to the window where he'd just seen Blair not five minutes before. He remembered very vividly her going in the opposite direction of her lovely abode, beside the very obvious known fact that it took a _long_ time for Blair Waldorf to finish her shopping for the day.

When he stepped inside the Waldorf penthouse he couldn't hear a single sound. Dorota wasn't there. _Good_. Blair or Serena weren't there. _Excellent_. Some unexpected stranger, possibly calling on Blair, wasn't wandering around the foyer in confusion and dismay. _Thank GOD_. It did seem rather _obsessive_ that he was worrying about some strange guy, possibly from Columbia, calling on Blair in the middle of the day when she wasn't even home, but he decided to ignore that fact. He was there for one thing and one thing only, and it _had_ to be done before Blair or Serena returned. Blair would be annoyed and cocky at his appearance, and Serena would ask too many questions.

He bounded up the elegant staircase and tried as casually as possibly to power-walk to Blair's room. Another strange move on his part, but he couldn't seem to help it. He was extremely on edge. Every passing second without Blair in his arms seemed to only make things worse. He had to remind himself that staying away was his choice, and also the fact that he was supposed to pretend he was at war with Blair when she was in his presence because they'd torn up the "contract". It was hard to think of anything but how much he wanted to be with her, loving her, preparing his proposal again – not to be officially acted out for several months yet naturally. He wouldn't let it be rushed. He wanted everything to be perfect. Just like before. But this time no mistakes. No Humphreys. No bad timing. And definitely no limitations. He had to allow for…interferences, except of course in the moment itself. That had to be the best moment of her life, of both of theirs. He got excited just thinking about it. But he would be reminded of the present and all surrounding his good intentions would be shot to hell.

Once he was inside her bedroom, he closed the door and headed straight for the space amongst her magazines where he'd found her diary the first time. His fingers were shaking again, so he wiped his hands on his pants in an effort to prevent leaving any marks. He couldn't let her get suspicious.

_Audrey, *audible sigh*_

_It's been too long, and I do believe I may as well call this Blair's Diary of Chuck Bass, instead of just 'Blair's Diary'. The thing is I can't stop thinking about him._

_A good sign, _he thought.

_It's only been two days and I swear he's the only thing that enters my mind and forms a complete thought. I swear Serena must be completely blind if she hasn't figured out that something is up with me since I find the need to shop for hours on end every single day. I mean, I've always loved to shop but I've been going over the top, Audrey! My only defense is that it seems to be the only thing that puts my mind at rest for more than half a second. I swear I'm on the verge of masturbating because my body craves him so much._

He gulped, wiping his hands on his pants again.

_It shouldn't be this way. I'm not supposed to want him this badly, not after what he did to me. But, if I think about it, Audrey – and I know it's dreadful to even think about, let alone write down in a diary or God forbid say outloud – but I've always found that bastard physically attractive. Nate was just always the image I'd been going for. But looking back I know it's the truth, just as it is now. I fear for my health, because honestly, Audrey, I feel like I'm about to give in._

Chuck was starting to feel particularly cheerful, not to mention incredibly relieved, though he was afraid to give in to that emotion entirely. He didn't want to get his hopes up and find himself in the situation of waiting possibly an entire week for her to come to him. He shuddered at the thought, and then re-read the last few lines to reassure himself that that would not happen. He read a few more pages and then shut the book, strolling out of the room with a satisfied smile and making sure he'd left everything just as it had been when he'd come in the room before.

On the way back to the Empire, he was genuinely surprised to see Blair on the sidewalk again, nodding along to whatever Serena was saying instead of chatting up some trivial topic herself. For a moment – and he thought he'd imagined it – she looked up and straight at him. He felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach and he could not turn away. He hoped he wasn't looking shocked beyond belief, not to mention incredibly enthralled, because that was exactly how he felt. The moment felt like it was moving in slow motion, even the limo he was seated in. In reality though it was over in a heartbeat. Blair had looked away first. The cool exterior.

_The fire below._

He felt the blood heat his veins.

…

"Ah, you're right where I left you."

Chuck did not look up at his best friend as he entered the room, just remained seated, staring into his half-empty glass of his favorite scotch alcohol.

"Any news from Juliet?" he asked blandly.

"No," Nate shook his head, a little bewildered as to where the question had even come from.. "I haven't heard anything from her. Not that I mind that much. We've been over for at least two weeks. I mean, she lied to me over and over and over…but," he paused, something between realization of his own feelings and aggravation over Juliet in general rising up in him, "It's just, if she didn't leave me for someone else, then I just don't…" He sighed, sounding very frustrated over the situation.

"Wonderful." Chuck slunk back into the couch and examined his glass further. Nate walked towards him and halted two feet away, deciding to ignore the recently brought out troubles concerning his love life.

"You alright, man?"

"Just _peachy_," he spat, looking like he'd been insulting the drink.

Nate looked at him strangely, unable to decipher what was wrong. "You don't look…peachy." He seemed humored by the word. He folded his arms across his chest. "No trouble with Blair, I hope." Chuck raised his eyes to look at his best friend.

"Why would you think that?"

"You're brooding."

Chuck raised his eyebrows.

"You do your best brooding when something's wrong between you and Blair."

Chuck set down the glass and stood to his feet, walking across the room seemingly just to be in a different place. A change of scenery never hurt anyone. He slipped his hands into his pockets and gazed intently out the large window that showed the vast array of skyscrapers decorating New York City.

"Nothing's wrong between me and Blair," he said. "We signed a contract, remember? Therefore, nothing can ever be wrong. We made sure of that – all four of us."

Nate nodded, following his best friend's steps to where he stood in front of the window, still a safe distance away. "I'm aware of it…" he paused, trying to put his conclusion into words "but that doesn't mean I can't recognize the signs."

"Signs?" Chuck asked, amused. He raised his eyebrows as he turned his head to look at Nate. Nate's expression did not waver. He looked at him hard, though somehow still casually. Evidently, Chuck decided to give in. He had lost it in only 48 hours and he needed some serious back-up. Two against one would surely push Blair enough to give in. As she had confessed herself, Serena was bound to realize just how much overkill their constant shopping was.

"Alright." Chuck turned to him. Nate followed the action, curious as to what his best friend's admission would be and secretly satisfied that he'd actually gotten him to tear down his usually so strongly upheld façade. "I need you to read Blair's diary."

"What?" Nate was taken aback to say the least. "Wha—I—uh…Blair doesn't have a diary." He finally managed to say. Chuck said nothing, just looked at him, willing him to accept the inevitable without him having to speak up. "Wait a minute. Have you…did you…"

Chuck sighed and sat down in the nearest chair, waiting for his best friend to finally grasp the situation.

"Blair has a diary," Nate finally said, dumbfounded. He sat down in the chair adjacent to Chuck's, looking to be lost in the empty space in front of him. "And you read it." He chuckled, shaking his head. A light bulb went on his head. "Wait," he said again, turning his head to Chuck. "If you've read it, then why do you want me to? I mean, couldn't you just read it again? Or is that too risky?" he teased.

"Bingo," Chuck said, standing to his feet with the sudden need to grasp the half-empty glass of scotch in his hand again.

"I don't…"

"Comprehend," he finished for him. "I'm aware of that." He walked back over to his flabbergasted best friend still sitting on the chair he'd landed on. Nate turned to him as he sipped his drink.

"So, would you mind clearing things up for me?" he raised his eyebrows, a mirage of emotions fleetingly flying across his face. Chuck sighed.

"I'd rather not." Nate looked at him more confused than he thought he'd ever been in his life. "But I'd still like you to read her diary and then report to me what you've learned."

"No," Nate said emphatically, apparently deciding it wasn't worth it to try to drive out the whole truth from his best friend. He would only get more confused, he realized. And the conversation would be over. "I'm not going through Blair's personal journal."

"Diary."

"Whatever. Why do you need to know so badly anyways? I just, if things are good with you guys again then why—why are you even going through it? I mean, what is—?" he broke off, placing two fingers to his temple. His head was beginning to hurt.

"Nathaniel, it is simply too risky for me to be going over to Blair's house everyday simply to read from her diary. There is always the possibility that someone might catch me," he said.

"You _think_? Chuck, this is starting to sound really ridiculous and…well, childish. I think you better tell me exactly what's up."

Chuck turned his head to him and seemed to be seriously contemplating that option. "I have a better idea," he said instead, ignoring the flash of additional emotions that appeared on his best friend's face. He stood to his feet again. "How about you take up some more of Serena's time? She's been spending far too much time with Blair shopping and too little time with you talking about…how shiny both of your hair is," he stated plainly, no hint of laughter in his voice. "I'm thinking maybe it's a better idea if I use what I have read to my advantage. Blair has to give in sooner or later; it's not as if it's the first time I've had to give her a little push. I even have proof of her…unquenched desires." He smiled smugly, setting his glass on the bar and walking to the elevator.

"Wait, _Chuck_," he called out to him, barely able to put one foot in front of the other. Chuck turned around to him as if nothing out of the ordinary has been discussed.

"Yes, Nathaniel?"

He looked flabbergasted and almost angry, but then his shoulders slumped and he sighed, resigned. He ran a hand through his thick head of blonde hair. "I'll spend more time with Serena. Just the two of us," he muttered the last part.

Chuck smiled, satisfied and terribly transcendent. "Thank-you, Nathaniel. I appreciate your willingness. You truly are…too kind." He winked at him as he stepped into the elevator and the doors closed behind him. Nate was still plainly confused, but there was nothing new about that. Eventually he pulled out his phone and called Serena.

…

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Please review. =) Oh, and this is post 4x07 remember, so…how I talked about Juliet…it's coming from that. Heh.


	7. Undisclosed Desires

A/N: Sorry for taking so long! I really am trying to push myself to write chapters up, regardless of how much I feel like it or not. XD Good news is I now have a beta for this story! =D So my grammar and my arrangement/style/etc. should be perfect now. Or nearly so. Lol. Please review and I shall try my very hardest to update soon. ;p

*Katie, you're amazing. Best. Beta. Ever. Thanks bunches for beta'ing this!

*I own nothing.

…

**Ch.7—Undisclosed Desires**

Some might call these activities _stalkerish_, but he'd abandoned any offense that sort of insult would have caused long ago. In fact, sometimes he even took pleasure in hearing it about himself. P.I.s could only do so much, and occasionally it was very exciting to do some of the dirty work yourself. Besides, Blair Waldorf's bedroom smelled so much like her he didn't think he'd ever get sick of snooping around to find the diary that had managed to get moved. It was a little unsettling, the possibility that she might be catching on to what he was doing and thus he'd be unable to read further and use her deepest, darkest thoughts and secrets to his advantage. But on the other hand, he had a perfectly legitimate excuse to dig through her underwear drawer.

The silk and lace slid through his fingertips as if they'd been made to dance amongst them, with ease. With every touch he could recall how it had felt to, either roughly or slowly, rip or unpeel them from Blair's skin. She was always so sensitive to the touch, but fiery as molten lava when she was finally undone. When her hair stuck to the back of her neck, he found himself basking in the moisture that brought out her natural scents, lavender and vanilla amongst them. He didn't care what anybody else said, he'd never find the sweat of Blair Waldorf something to move away from. It was intoxicating because it was _her_, even more so when they were in the throes of passion.

By some grand miracle he managed to move past the silk and lace of her undergarment drawer. He nearly fell into a whole dimension when he ran across her lingerie, most of which he'd personally bought and watch her seduce him with – not that it required much where she was concerned. The only thing that had kept him from sleeping with her hour after hour when she was in the mood was work. That thought made him close all her drawers and shut her closet doors entirely. He sighed and raked a hand through his hair, hating himself so entirely he almost convinced himself to leave her room and her life entirely.

"_It wouldn't be my world without you in it."_

God, how he hated that he kept his promises to her…the ones he really understood at least. Coincidentally, they often seemed to be the nonverbal ones. _Bitch_. Was there even a point to being there anymore? Even if he did find her diary and come across more of her dirty thoughts of him, pinpoint where she was so he could take advantage of how she was crumbling in her aching hormones, what good would it do? Some hot sex? Then what? He sighed. Even if he did manage to convince her to agree to some sort of 'enemies-with-benefits' arrangement, it would never truly satisfy him. It wasn't what he really wanted. He wanted _her_. _All_ _of her_.

The bedroom door opened suddenly. Chuck felt the air pressure around him shift. He could have sworn he heard her gasp, but there was no sound behind her in the hall or downstairs as to suggest Serena was nearby.

"You're back," she said.

She was even more beautiful than he remembered. Two days was all it had been and somehow she just _glowed_. She was wearing the same thing he'd seen her in earlier that day: a short little skirt and a frilly-sleeved shirt that tucked in helped define her waist. Her legs looked like they went on forever. Her hair was swept up in a school-girlish ponytail with a few tendrils dancing around her face and a few wisps floating attached to the nape of her neck. If he hadn't been so caught up in his own emotions and the real issues that needed to be dealt with right then, he would have had her half undressed by now.

"And you're speechless." She walked towards him, stopping a short distance away. She gave him a once-over. "That's unusual." She folded her arms across her chest when he continued to say nothing, still trying to shift back to his smarmy self when his emotions were waging war inside him, threatening to destroy his sanity. "What happened to your resolve?" She raised an eyebrow.

He steeled himself for the final breath before he plunged into the storm. "I could've called in some prostitutes, you know." More collected, he began to walk around her, letting his presence throw her own resolve off. "The world is at my fingertips. I practically own it. There is no limit to the scandalous, pretty little things I could have brought to my hotel penthouse to sleep with me. The ones from Europe are particularly keen on flexible moves and highly-challenging sex games."

"But you didn't," she said point-blank.

He searched her eyes, wishing he could scoff. But he couldn't. He was on the verge of collapsing in front of her.

"No."

"Why not?"

There was a hint of confusion in her voice that only he could have picked up, and because he was dealing with such underlying emotions himself. Why _was_ he still there? Why didn't he just push past her and leave like he said he'd do? Why _hadn't_ he called in a bunch of call-girls like was his usual routine?

_Because_, he reminded himself, _the only one he wanted was her._

"Have you thought about my proposal?" he asked, unwilling to dive into his feelings again. Not out loud. Not yet. Not when she didn't love him anymore.

She sighed and her arms dropped to her sides. "Should I have?"

His face looked like it had been sculpted from steel, hard as a rock, his eyes fierce as the flames roaring in a forest fire. He started walking towards her. Startled, she backed up when he advanced, grateful that her bedroom door was still open. He stopped when she was in the doorway, just as her mouth was opening to protest or question what he was planning to do. He gripped the doorjamb firmly, just to the right of her head, his fingers digging into the wood.

"You want to know _why_ I didn't call in any worthless piece of trash to satiate my hunger?" he demanded.

She didn't move, didn't speak – _couldn't_. Her eyes wouldn't even so much as _blink_, not in that moment.

"Because, Blair," he whispered hotly against her face, leaning forward, his other hand – unbeknownst to her – sliding onto the door and slowly pushing towards where Blair stood. "The only one I want to be sleeping with is _you_."

He attacked her lips with his own, and just like before, she willingly complied, seduction coming easy. His hand wrapped around her neck about the same time as hers did and he shut the door swiftly as he turned their bodies towards the bed, stumbling as they went. She still hadn't said a word, and maybe he'd said too much, but she was in his arms again, even if it wasn't for the reasons he wanted. That was all that mattered. He would think more on the subject later when he wasn't so close to the object of his desire and of his heart.

…

She was so beautiful, he didn't want to look away. In fact, he couldn't. He was transfixed, mesmerized, as if he'd been put under a spell. The very essence of her drew him to look upon her as if looking away would surely be fatal. The moisture that had been soaked into her skin and hair when he'd made love to her had finally cooled, but he dare not touch it lest he wake her. The sweet, even breathing pattern had developed in her sleep, which contented him. The ivory color of her skin had flushed pink, but was now returning. Her bow-shaped lips were as perfect and enticing as ever. Her neck seemed to go on forever and it called to him like a siren. He wanted to see her eyes; how deep and filled with emotion they could be. The nagging devil in the back of his mind reminded him though that there would not be love in those eyes when they finally opened. She would be irritated that he'd managed to seduce her again. Then she would force his presence – however temporarily – out of her dwellings again.

Getting her back had not been in the forefront of his mind during those initial days in seducing her. After their collision with the piano via sweaty post-birthday party sex, he'd just realized how much he'd always desired her physically. It was a way to ignore how his heart was hurting, while still indulging in an aspect of their prior relationship that he'd always thoroughly enjoyed. His sudden depressive mood had nothing to do with it being tiring that he always had to seduce her instead of her just willingly allowing him to sweep her off her feet and plant her on various locations in her house, stripping her of her clothing and pounding into her. It was a trifle annoying, but more so a challenge to see how long she could last and what different techniques he could use to seduce her. It was like the good old days, but different somehow. It reminded him of their initial affair. It had been flirty and fun, and he'd been a love-struck fool unable to see what had been coming until it smacked him in the face: _Nate_. Another guy was not the problem this time, but the feel of the situation was similar. It was all sex to her, nothing more, because she hadn't forgiven him yet, and she might not ever. He didn't know if he could handle that.

"_I don't love you anymore."_

The words crushed him as fiercely as they had at the train station in Paris when she'd come after him to stop him from running away. She was always that strong force holding him together, even when she didn't have the strength to do the same for herself. Often he was the cause of that. He hated it. And he didn't know how to fix it. That was the worst part. He could rebuild The Empire. He could make a name for himself in the eyes of the world through Bass Industries – maybe in a way that even his father couldn't, because he was somewhat human. But without Blair by his side, what would the point be?

There wouldn't be one. And if she wasn't even going to agree to 'enemies-with-benefits', then he'd made no progress whatsoever. The sex following her birthday party had sprung on him out of the blue, releasing the tension that had been welling up in him all night. Not because she accused him of something he would normally do, but because all summer she had searched for him, even though she told him to stay away, to never speak to her again. _That meant she cared, didn't it?_ The possibility threatened to destroy him, because he _knew_ she wouldn't admit to it.

They were the same, he'd told her, and he was well aware he'd spoken the truth. If she really did still love him, she wasn't about to tell him so. She hadn't forgiven him, so what right did he have to know? And how on earth could he prove himself worthy of her affections again, that he could claim her heart and not damage it in the process? If he didn't know, then any effort he made would be futile. He needed a plan, but for all the time in the world he'd spent thinking about it, the ideas spinning would not get him far. Getting Nate to steal Serena away would give him more time to get Blair alone, _but if she wouldn't comply beyond surprised seductions_… His head hurt just thinking about it.

He needed to leave, he told himself. It would be no good dreaming of them together when he knew his dreams would be shattered the second she opened her eyes. But he could not leave without touching her. He hadn't yet because the thought of waking her somehow seemed cruel. But in what should have been afterglow between them, it would be a shame to let it be wasted.

Very carefully and slowly, he pulled his arm out from under his body and reached across her face, brushing the slightly frizzy brunette locks to the side, so when she opened her eyes she wouldn't have to blink too many times. His fingers lingered on the side of her face. Her skin was like silk. If any product came in the feel of Blair Waldorf, he would purchase it a million times over. It would both kill and heal him while he remained in the state he was in, but at least he'd feel like she was there with him instead of always just out of reach.

He moved closer to her and pressed a kiss to her bare shoulder. He remembered how slightly ticklish she got when he kissed his way up to her chin from her shoulder when they were not in the throes of passion and so just went directly to kissing her cheek after that and then thrilling in the scent surrounding him when he dove his nose into her air. She was perfect.

But he had to leave – before he couldn't. He knew he wouldn't be able to keep up with a snarky conversation when she finally woke up, and he couldn't let himself fall into the gut-honest level he'd gone to just before they'd melted into the overwhelming waves of heat when they consumed each other, pressing against one another's bodies as if there was some strong surface behind them. They were hardly aware that they stumbled in that moment on the way to the bed.

No. He couldn't go to that place again. The lack of progress would diminish further, if that were possible. So, he completely raised himself from the bed. Very quietly, he grappled around for his clothes, put them on and gently shut the door behind him on his way out.

…

He hadn't said a word to Nate when he looked up as he walked into the elevator from the penthouse the following afternoon. There was no explanation necessary. His best friend did not know the details of his current situation with Blair and why exactly he was being forced into "hanging out" with Serena. It was better that way. Plus, it would get Nate and Serena over each other, in more ways than one, and before the whole ordeal with Blair was over, the blondes would be on their hands and knees bowing before him in gratitude. To say he was feeling much more confident and cocky on the way over to Blair's would be a _huge_ understatement. He decided he might even deliberately search for her diary and read some when they were finished and she was still asleep, or maybe he would even stay till after she showered. He felt like he could take some risks today, toy with her a bit.

"Your ass looks spectacular in that little pencil skirt, Waldorf. I wish you had worn it sooner."

She turned around instantly, the papers she'd been inspecting in her hands shooting up in the air and then floating down to the floor around her feet. He noticed she was wearing heels and decided that would make things all the more interesting. He loved when she wore heels when they had sex. It was erotic and almost as sensual as when she wore the lingerie he specifically picked out. The intention today was to put the thought in her head that she should always wear lingerie underneath her attire, just in case he might stop by for a little romp.

"I have worn it before," she said defensively. His eyes got a little darker when he realized she hadn't demanded he leave yet. "You just didn't notice."

He pushed himself off the doorjamb and walked casually into her bedroom. "I think I would have noticed," he drawled. "Maybe you just don't remember because I said it in the midst of ripping it off your body."

She flushed, but quickly recovered, straightening herself and then moving past him. She shut the door of her own volition, probably not thinking much of it. Either that or she had done it deliberately because she fully planned on having sex with him very soon. He liked both prospects very much. They served to turn him on even further when he caught a glimpse of her backside in that skirt again. He also noticed for the first time that the breezy shirt she was wearing left much of her back exposed. Subconsciously, he reached up to his neck and pulled at his tie. Despite it being _his_ seduction, he was starting to feel unusually hot, like it was _she_ that was seducing _him_, and not the other way around.

She slipped out of her heels and he frowned, the image of her in black heels and lingerie disappearing from his hopeful, dirty mind. He became cheerful again however when he noticed that when her hot-as-hell glare was accompanied by her folding her arms across her chest, her breasts bunched up a little and some cleavage shown past her v-neck shirt.

"Why are you here?" she asked, hardly sounding convincing. He simply smirked and that answered her question in a heartbeat. She knew why he was there and she had given him more than enough incentive to come after her right then just by closing the door and slipping out of her shoes.

"I thought we could talk," he said lazily, gesturing towards the bed. Her eyes flitted to the innocent-looking piece of furniture, all made up with its primped pillows and polished headboard. Then she looked back to him and his poor attempt to look innocent.

"Talk," she said dryly. "About what?" she asked, her arms dropping to her sides. She actually sounded disappointed. He gloried in that.

Sighing, as though weary, he made his way over to the bed and sat down on it. "I have another proposal for you," he said, the heated look in his eyes and that devilish smirk never leaving his face.

Now, _she_ looked tired, and a little bit annoyed at the prospect of having to debate with him about another official sex deal, but she made the trip over to the bed and sat down next to him – not too close, and sitting very straight. She sat up even straighter when she felt the warm sensual touch of his fingers on her bare back. He was half-way between lying down and sitting up, but he managed to untuck the shirt from her slimming skirt and unzip the skirt as well. The air around them had become very thick.

"I was wondering," he said in a hot whisper right into her ear, "if you would mind showing me that skirt off of its bodice."

Noticeably, she shivered, and he moved his hand from her back to her arms, inching his way up to the curve of her shoulder. The light tank sleeves easily surrendered to the will of his hand.

"Doesn't sound like a proposal to me," she murmured. "Sounds more like a sweet request."

He turned her face towards him, so she could see just how lust-filled his eyes were and how much he needed to take her right then.

"It's whatever you want it to be, sweetheart." The pet name reverberated around them. "As long as you say yes."

She lost her breath and he took full advantage, assaulting her lips with a kiss that would impress on her to do anything but try to escape. He pushed her down onto the bed, ripping the snug skirt off of her as fast as he could and pressing himself against her so that she could barely move. Her arms were tight around his neck, pulling him closer than space allowed and indulging in the kiss he'd instigated.

Her legs spread apart to make room for him and then wrapped themselves around his waist. She moaned against him when he broke the kiss to whisper seductive, naughty words into her ear. She shivered again, once more trying to pull him closer. She nearly choked him in trying to undo his tie. The sensual battle was almost the death of them. The need to hold each other closer and take all of their clothes off simultaneously seemed impossible, but eventually it was accomplished and Blair surrendered herself to him, losing control almost the second more skin was in sight.

He reveled in her body and how amazing it felt to touch her again. Miraculously, he managed to focus his attention on pleasing both himself and her in their physical arrangement, which though not a difficult task, required some effort, seeing as he was on the verge of telling her he loved her.

…

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Reviews would be lovely. ;P


	8. Your Secrets Aren't Safe

A/N: Sorry it took so long, but I really think I'm getting better at updating more regularly. Please review. I love hearing what you think.

(Sidenote: I have officially caught up with all the episodes, so if you're one of those people who enjoyed reading my reaction/response to the episodes, my response to episode 4x17 is posted on my profile & 4x12-4x16 are posted on my personal website, which the link for should be at the bottom of my profile. I'd be happy to discuss anything & now I know my fics will completely make sense now that I'm aware of everything. I'm half contemplating tossing out the few fics I placed in the 4x12-4x17 time frame. Some of it is totally unrealistic now that I've seen what actually happened. XD)

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

*The lovely Katie beta'd this for me. Thanks, girl!

…

**Ch.8—Your Secrets Aren't Safe**

She looked ravishing. In her silken maroon dress with that flare of sparkles sprinkling from shoulder to waist, and how her hair danced lightly around her shoulders; Blair Waldorf was a goddess. The layer of red that emphasized her lips drew him to her like a siren. Her hips swayed when she walked and the laughter she shared with Serena bore anew the little colorful creatures in his stomach that he periodically tried to kill and yet was never able to. The only thing that kept him from losing his resolve altogether when he caught a glimpse of her deep, brown eyes, was the obvious presence of Nate and Serena on either side of them.

"Great party, Serena," Nate said.

His thoughts sufficiently interrupted and vanquished, Chuck reigned in the overwhelming rush of emotions Blair had unknowingly poured over him and placed a suave smile upon his face.

"Yes, Sis," he said, taking a champagne glass as it passed by on a waiter's tray. "Truly," he lifted his glass to her, his eyes sliding over to Blair's for one endless heated moment, "It is remarkable." He looked back at Serena when the last of his words had left his tongue. He smiled, ignoring the confused look on his sister's face and took a sip of his champagne.

"Thanks… Chuck," she said uneasily, turning her gaze over to Blair who was sharing a smoldering look with the step-brother she'd just turned away from. She could feel tension in the air and most definite heat. She looked at Nate, and despite his usual oblivious manner, he seemed quite in the know as well.

"How have things been going with the Empire, Chuck?" Nate asked, half tempted to pull on Chuck's arm like they had when they were children in order to get his attention.

Chuck slowly turned his gaze away from Blair's, though not before his eyes raked her entire form, most especially the dip in the front of her dress. The cut floated open just enough so that anyone who was looking at her close enough and in just the right away when she was sitting down could see a spectacular view of her sweetly-rounded breasts, pushed up just enough to take notice in that lacy black bra he was sure she was wearing.

"They've been great," Chuck said, smiling briefly at his best friend. "I'll be hosting a party soon," his eyes flitted back over to Blair's, lingering on her glossy lips, "to celebrate the great success that is the Empire." He looked to both Nate and Serena in one quick glance, allowing them to acknowledge the invitation he'd bestowed upon them.

"When is it?" Nate asked, suddenly more interested in the party details than in the obvious tension that lay between Chuck and Blair.

"Yes, _Chuck_." Serena cleared her throat, hoping it would alert the blonde standing across from her to stay focused, but to no avail. "When is this wonderful party? Can I bring a date?"

That shifted gears. Chuck turned to his lovely step-sister and smirked. "You can bring all of Manhattan if you want, just not your new teacher."

Serena's eyes bulged and she flashed a look of betrayal to Nate who appeared to be searching for a way to escape while maintaining the frightened defense of being accused of a crime he did not commit. Her eyes squinted at his, hardly becoming less aggressive or pissed off when he held up his hands for her to back down. She looked to Blair for some support, but the brunette seemed lost in Chuck's eyes. The glare did not make Serena any less uneasy.

"That depends if you'll be there. I wouldn't dare hold a party if all three of you weren't in attendance," he said sultrily, hardly aware of anyone else in the room other than Blair. His eyes were entirely focused on hers.

Before Nate or Serena could respond, Blair did. "I wouldn't miss it."

The whispered response initiated the unyielding need in Serena to break the heat between the two brown-haired schemers so she and Nate could properly breathe again.

"Blair, I need to talk to you about something important. Girl stuff. In the kitchen," she said urgently, trying not to sound too frantic.

"Sure, S."

The brunette was talking slowly, her eyes still fixed on Chuck's and Serena realized she could hardly count on her best friend to get her own feet moving.

"Now," she demanded, grabbing hold of Blair's arm and pulling her away.

Chuck watched as Blair was dragged away until the two girls were out of sight. He smiled smugly to himself, but then was jolted back to reality when Nate's figure stood directly in front of him. The blonde's expression was full of suspicion.

"What?" Chuck asked, playing innocent.

Nate said nothing and just continued to look at him, hoping it would be enough.

Chuck only smirked and moved past him, going to hide himself near the front closet in the hall. It was only too pleasant that the kitchen was nearby and it was just quiet enough so he could overhear the girls' conversation.

"_What _is going on between you and Chuck?" Serena demanded.

Blair was still spinning a little from the way she'd been so roughly pulled from room to room. She steadied herself by grabbing hold of the counter. Then, she proceeded to smooth out any wrinkles that might have been done to her dress.

"What are you talking about?" she asked, exasperated, and more focused on fixing her appearance she'd worked so hard on to achieve than the actual question.

Serena snapped her fingers in front of Blair's face and finally she was met with the doe-eyed gaze.

"_Focus_. Chuck, you, what is it?"

Blair only gave her blank stare, still trying to come to grips with the conversation they were actually having. Serena's annoyed, impatient facial expression finally gave her the reality check she needed, and she so proceeded to don herself with as convincing of a façade as she could manage, given how obvious she must have already been.

"Nothing," she said.

Serena raised her eyebrows in disbelief.

"I'm serious, _nothing_."

The blonde placed her hands on her hips, not buying a word of it.

Blair sighed, no longer bothering to try any more, and hoping that would convince her best friend to at least lay off her, even if she couldn't believe a word she was saying.

"What I saw in there," Serena said, "was not _nothing_. What I saw – and _felt_ – Nate too! I'm not the only one –"

Blair crossed her arms across her chest, accepting the inevitable lecture and accusation.

"Was some _serious_ sexual tension."

Blair felt her face get very hot and knew she was probably blushing. She evaded her best friend's penetrating gaze and knew she'd been caught. But before Serena could slip in one more word, because she knew she'd never get out of the kitchen alive if she did, Blair looked up again, her face sporting a cheery smile and placed her hands lovingly on her best friend's shoulders.

"I appreciate your concern, S. I do. But either you're paranoid that something may have changed between Chuck and I, or you're feeling particularly prone to accusing others of having sex because you're not getting any yourself." She shrugged and walked out of the kitchen past a gaping Serena, only to be stopped a moment later when her best friend called to her to remind her that she hadn't mentioned the _act_ of sex at all, just what appeared to be the inevitability. Chills and heat consumed her, but she somehow managed to start walking again.

Bewildered and overwhelmed, Serena did not follow her.

Chuck was smiling like a Cheshire cat when Blair finally emerged from the kitchen. He'd scoured the party's locale and been delighted when all the guests seemed to be mostly occupied in the living room and other socializing areas. The foyer was completely vacant, aside from a waiter passing through every now and again. No one seemed to be aware of his presence. Even Nate had managed to get caught up in a conversation between a couple of blue-eyed female red heads both competing for his attention. He apparently viewed them as 'cute,' or Chuck knew he wouldn't have tortured himself by allowing any type of discussion, despite his upbringing of the 'nice guy' or 'gentleman.'

Chuck had heard every word of that lovely heart-to-heart between Blair and Serena. Every response Blair had given was completely to his advantage, simply by the silence between each sentence and the flustered or forced way her voice had sounded.

She did not get far when she stepped into his path. He caught her around the waist and pushed her against the closed closet door, kissing her feverishly. Her gasp had gotten caught in his throat, followed shortly after by moans and then a forceful shove away from her – as expected.

"_No_, Chuck."

The devil's gleam was in his eyes. He already looked disheveled and they'd hardly touched each other. The atmosphere around them was still heated to the brim. They were melting.

"Serena's suspicious," Blair whispered hastily.

Relief and a somehow fiercer lust coursed through him. She wasn't pushing him away because she was trying to avoid his seduction. She was halting the followed through action because she didn't want them to be seen, didn't want anyone to be made aware of exactly what they were doing.

In the grand scheme of things, that fact really did not make him feel entirely sated, but it was a step in the right direction. It was progress, and he was entirely too proud of himself for achieving that goal.

He took a step towards her, but she held out her hand palm out and he stopped.

"_No_."

She walked to the mirror in the foyer and straightened out her dress and her hair, fearing for its condition. Then, she walked back out into the party and he let her. It was the last time he would allow for such an easy exit.

….

He shouldn't have done it again, considering how emotional he'd gotten just by looking for it a few days prior, but he couldn't help it. After the party that Serena had clearly taken ownership of, he'd been charged up, rejuvenated, ready to take down anything and everything in his path that would prevent him from claiming Blair Waldorf – again.

_Dear Audrey,_

_I have a confession to make._

He loved those.

_If only you could hear how many sighs I'm uttering at the moment, Audrey. You'd be sick of them, and the topic I'm bringing up yet __again__. I swear I have never thought about Chuck so much in my life. Well, at least not as much as I'm writing to you about right now. _

_Truth is, I think – no, I __know __– I will be unable to turn Chuck's proposal down if he asks it of me again. _

He smiled – genuinely smiled. He could not recall ever feeling so happy about a hate-sex pact in his life. The fact that he had never _had_ a hate-sex pact before in his life was obviously dismissed before it was even fully thought through.

_The thing is, I really want to be ravished by him on a regular basis, Audrey. I know, I know, you disapprove, and I disapprove too, but there comes a time when you must throw disapproval to the wind and simply let yourself be free in whichever way that freedom takes you._

_God, I sound like Serena._

_And I know something about everything I just said was either too poetic or not enough. I blame Chuck Bass for that. He is always ever messing with my thinking patterns. Even now I am contemplating how he will seduce me next, and sadly I feel that is part of the reason I denied his little deal. I did not want the element of surprise or mystery to be withdrawn._

He smirked._ Hardly, _he thought.

_But it is inevitable, I know, to let myself go on believing that I can avoid him altogether when I can't. Sigh. Truly, it is remarkable that I lasted this long. _

"Indeed," he murmured, and then he chuckled. "I knew I was on to you, Waldorf."

"Oh, really?"

The flat tone to her voice would have sent a chill down anyone else's spine, but not Chuck Bass's, not even for being caught. Her voice was like a siren song, forever calling him home. At this moment in particular though, it heated the blood in his veins. Very slowly, he closed the diary, slipping the little ribbon in where he'd been, so he could mark his place – even if she moved it – and turned around to face her, thick smile set on his face.

"Lovely thoughts you have in here, Waldorf. You should publish this wonderful book of wisdom and knowledge." He was practically purring and taking great delight in her struggle to take the book from him. It was too easy to hold it back from her even when she started smacking him with her other hand when he wouldn't let go.

"_Feisty_," he said, the devil's glint in his eyes when he finally let her take the precious book.

She huffed, pressing the book against her and then tucking it into a corner of the room that she hoped he wouldn't notice. It was futile obviously, but her pathetic retort was all she could come up with at the moment.

"I'm moving it after you leave," she said, hands on hips, making sure to stay on the opposite side of the bed.

"Fine by me," Chuck said, walking lazily towards her. "In fact, I think I'd prefer it that way. More…" he paused for effect, "_mystery_ and _surprise, _if you will."

Her mouth opened in shock, but then snapped shut. She retreated into her all-famous, usually successful glare that more often than not, sent her enemies and those lower than her running.

"_Leave_."

Her eyes narrowed in annoyance when he did not so much as move, except to lower his stare from her eyes to her lips. She was torn by the overwhelming desire to forcefully send him stumbling into the hall and jump him on their way to the carpet.

He waited, almost smiling happily at the prospect of seeing how long she could hold herself in check before she exploded. It was one of the most enjoyable aspects of their hate-sex foreplay.

Blair decided she would not break, no matter how long he stood there. She also knew however, that eventually she'd have to move past him to achieve being somewhere other than that corner of her room, and that he would make it very difficult if not impossible to succeed in that goal.

Chuck sighed almost cheerily and slipped his hands into his pockets. He was half-tempted to go sit on her bed, but he had already envisioned the scene that could take place if he maintained his stance so she could not move past him. That scene involved him grabbing her around the waist and crushing his lips to hers as he pushed her on the bed tangled up in him. It was far more alluring than him just impatiently going to sit on her bed to prove his point entirely that he would not be leaving any time soon.

Blair blew out a puff of hair and crossed her arms across her chest, actually surprised when his eyes did not lower to her breasts. She wondered if it was because her shirt was hardly as low cut as it had been in recent days when she'd known he'd arrive. She hadn't known for sure, but she'd had a feeling, and god help her if she didn't get a thrill from all of the different ways she could tease him before succumbing to both of their desires.

"I'm not agreeing to anything," she finally said.

He raised his eyebrows. "Your precious diary says otherwise."

"That information was not for your eyes to see." Her eyes narrowed again and her arms dropped to her sides, actual fists forming from her hands.

He loved to see her agitated. He could tell she was getting close to her breaking point already. It was delightful. He slowly started to walk towards her.

"Ah, but I did," he said, holding up a finger as a gesture to remind her.

She jerked back a little but did not back all the way into the wall. She knew that was dangerous territory because then she'd have nowhere to run except for her bed. Both locations gave Chuck full advantage over her and prevented all escape, unless she called for Dorota. Something in her just could not do that though.

"So, the question remains," he continued on, "are you going to say it to my face or am I just supposed to assume you want me to ravish you as often as I want to ravish you."

His voice was husky, hot, and intoxicating. He wasn't even close enough to breathe against her skin but somehow she could just feel the words in her ears. She could taste the desire welling up inside both of them, and more than anything she wanted him to take her right then, even without her verbal consent. It would be so easy, since she was so very close to him already and the pent up heat between them was growing stronger by the second.

But pride won out.

"No," she said roughly. "We are not anything, nor will we ever be. So, I suggest you leave," she said far too cheerily, yet determined, as she bravely stomped towards him and pushed against his chest, forcing herself to not indulge too deeply in the feel of him against her palms. Instead, she focused on the fact that he had been caught off guard and was unwillingly being forced to walk backwards across the room. She kept moving until she reached the doorway and then shoved him sufficiently into the hall, closing her door as quickly as she could, locking it, and sliding down the large wooden slab until her bottom had hit the floor.

"_Blair_…" he teased in a flirtatious air.

It irritated her that he had recovered so quickly.

"Go away, Chuck! I don't want you here!"

He chuckled, and to her surprise what she could only assume was his footsteps grew fainter as he walked down the hall and down the stairs. The ding of the elevator could be heard soon afterwards. She pushed herself up from the floor to her feet and opened her door cautiously. Then she walked down the hall a bit, peeking down into the foyer, and catching a glimpse of Chuck Bass's wink as the elevator doors closed in front of him.

Her heart beat rapidly against her chest and her stomach dropped to lower depths than she could have imagined. She had the strongest certainty that she would be seeing him again very soon, and it was unsettling to know that she was _excited_ at the prospect.

….

A/N: Thanks for reading! You know what to do… ;)


	9. Tables Turned

A/N: I'm so proud of myself for updating in a little over a week. *wipes away tear* Having a beta just somehow inspires me to write sooner. Heheh. _**Thanks, Katie!**_ *hug* Enjoy all & please review! :D

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

**…**

**Ch.9—Tables Turned**

He barely heard his best friend's long, drawn out sigh. He was too busy concocting how he could best get Blair to surrender to the desires he'd read in her diary. It was clear now that reading more of that delightful book would prove futile. Even if he'd be able to tell apart what was truthful and what she'd deliberately put in there to confuse him, he could never be entirely sure. Not unless she told him, and even then he'd be a little suspicious.

"I thought you two signed a treaty."

Chuck took a sip of his scotch. "We did."

"I was there for it," Nate said, needing to acknowledge the fact aloud so it could be somehow truer than it felt at the moment.

"Serena too," Chuck said, lowering the glass from his lips as he stared out at New York's spectacular skyline. It was sunset. He wondered what Blair was wearing.

"Yeah," Nate said, as if he was discovering it for the first time.

"I need a strategy," Chuck said, looking back at his puzzled best friend on the couch. He pursed his lips in frustrated thought. "I've got her right where I want her, but there's something I'm missing here." He sighed and looked back out the window. "She just needs that one last straw, but I can't seem to figure out what that might be."

"You had a no touching rule!"

"Article 19…" Chuck said offhandedly. He stared out at a far skyscraper as if it were the most interesting pieces of artwork he'd ever seen. "That was the stupidest rule either of us could have come up with, given our ever constant aggressive sexual appetites." He took a sip of his scotch. "Probably why I fucked her senseless on her mother's piano about two seconds after I tore up that nonsensical document."

He turned around to a gaping Nate.

"What?"

Nate couldn't move for about half a minute, as he tried to digest the situation. Understanding Chuck and Blair was always somewhat of a challenge, and he probably should have known they'd end up in each other's pants soon enough, but he hadn't thought the peace treaty Serena had come up with would be what lead them there.

He blinked too many times and then shook his head. "You're so…_casual_ about it," he said, bewildered.

Chuck raised his eyebrows.

Nate sighed and sat back down, hardly aware that he had gotten to his feet in the midst of trying to comprehend the situation. When Chuck had told him he was trying to forge a hate-sex pact with Blair, his brain had literally shut off. What consisted of the muddled mess now was the thinking pattern of a five year old. He now knew why his best friend usually kept him out of the loop until everything had been successfully resolved.

Chuck smirked and stared fondly at his glass of scotch.

"There isn't particularly anything wrong with what I'm doing now, I suppose," he said, moving across the room to set down his glass on the bar. "I do, after all, know all her secrets, and she knows that I know them, so any other resistance she puts up will be futile." He chuckled but then sighed. "Of course she could continuously put up that petty little act of being uninterested when she really is…"

"Maybe you should just take some time to think about it," Nate suggested, trying for the open-minded approach. Maybe if he gave in to Chuck's determination to bed Blair on a regular basis, he could knock some sense into his lust-driven, I-always-win mind. "Sleep it off. You've only been back 20 minutes."

"Thirteen actually, and that's far too long already." Chuck paced a little, moving slowly so it wouldn't cause any further suspicion, not that there was something left to hide. He'd displayed just about everything to Nate Archibald, the surface stuff at least. It would make him too weak to show him what was driving his actions.

_Weakness._

"Chuck…" he sighed again, sounding exhausted.

"No." He turned around and paced in the direction of his best friend. "I can't lower my guard at all. This bargain that I'm trying to play at is based entirely on keeping our guards up and our clothes off."

Nate grimaced.

"Some seductive talk and extended sexual activity however does not seem to be doing the trick." He sat down in the chair across from Nate and crossed his ankles on the foot stool in front of him. "What convinces Blair Waldorf to agree to make something so trivial permanent?" he contemplated. "I should know this…"

Nate sat up in the chair and leaned forward so his forearms were on his knees.

"I can't believe I'm even discussing this with you, but for the sake of argument, why _don't_ you just give up?"

Chuck looked up at him, thoughtful.

"I can tell Serena something happened to the treaty, though I'm sure she's well aware that something's changed, based on her sudden need to talk to Blair the other night at the party." He laughed a little and shook his head. "You know, you are—"

Chuck looked at him innocently.

"We can write a new treaty," Nate suggested seriously. "Maybe we could even take out the _no touching rule_. That might make it less forbidden and thus not so…tempting to succumb to. I'm sure then you two will be able to get along just fine without having to forge some sort of hate-sex pact, because then you'll be able to just be friends. Everything will be fine then." An unconvinced smile graced his lips.

Chuck smiled smugly in return. "Oh, how stupid you are."

Nate's brows furrowed in slight offense.

"You clearly don't know us very well. This has nothing to do with the treaty," he continued, despite Nate's attempt to speak, "I will admit that it was the material evidence that…ignited the initial flames, but now that it's happened, we can't very well go back and undo it."

Nate frowned. "Then—"

"I could write up an official proposal though." He smiled slyly. "I could promise that if the treaty is torn up that I'll stay away, or at least that I won't try to seduce her at every turn." Chuck stood to his feet.

"That will never work," Nate said. "If you give her the option, she's obviously going to turn you down, _especially_ if you put the control in her hands."

"Maybe." Chuck shrugged. "Maybe not." He headed towards the exit. "From what I hear Blair likes a good challenge." His eyes sparkled.

"But…" Nate was confused for what felt like the millionth time since Chuck had come into the penthouse, interrupting him from his mind-numbing pointless contemplating of the next day's events. "Where are you going?" he finally asked, abandoning the other questions eager to escape his mouth.

"To Blair's."

Nate blinked, the blatant realization that his best friend had not written anything down in the slightest and that he was not planning on doing so on the way over to the Waldorf's in his limo.

"You're not going to write up a treaty, are you?" he stated the obvious.

Chuck scoffed. "Of course not."

Nate nodded once, knowingly. "You just said that so I'd get off your back about rewriting the treaty."

"Something like that." Chuck walked into the elevator and turned around.

Nate stood and looked at his smiling best friend, wondering if their whole conversation had been a show from the very beginning. He'd never know. There was so little that he understood in the midst of Chuck-without-Blair-while-pining-for-Blair. It was best to give up on trying, at least for that day.

"Don't wait up," the brunette said. "I'm going to get lucky." He winked.

Nate decided he was very irritated by that particular wink. He wondered if he would have had any more luck suggesting Chuck just resort to his little black book. He guessed not. When Blair was available and he viewed her as claimable, nothing else mattered.

**…**

It occurred to him that the smug smile on his face wouldn't last all the way over to Blair's. It would probably at least slightly falter sometime in the limo when he was devising the perfect plan to win her over. He hadn't lied when he'd told Nate he wasn't sure exactly how he was going to get her to agree to a more permanent arrangement between them – or an arrangement period. But there was no way in hell he was going to write up another treaty. With Blair, solidifying agreements, promises, and the like, were always sealed through kisses or _I love you'_s. There simply was no other way.

He'd have to make a better argument than _you're hot, I'm hot, let's rip each other's clothes off and fuck_ though. He frowned momentarily at that acknowledgment. It would be so much easier if she'd just agree to it that way. Though, she wouldn't be the feisty she-cat bitch he loved if it was that easy. He'd no doubt have to threaten her in some way, though sending out a _Gossip Girl_ post informing all of Manhattan that Blair Waldorf wrote porn about Chuck Bass would likely get him nowhere. Picking up macaroons and peonies would only get him a skeptical smile. It would also be more of a romantic gesture than a sexual one. He couldn't afford that level of vulnerability. Not yet. It was too soon after his last accidental slip.

His exhaustive thought processes came to a sudden halt when he opened the doors out of the Empire and spotted Blair Waldorf leaning against his limo, looking at him expectantly. He could not help the grin that slid onto his face as he slowed his pace and walked what he hoped was casually towards her. His heart beat a million miles a second.

"Waldorf," he said far too airily. It was her fault entirely that he was feeling on cloud nine. She looked unbelievably ravishing if nothing else. "Miss me?"

"Entirely too much." She eyed him over as well.

"Mmm." He took a few steps towards her, close enough so he could smell her hair. He breathed in the scent like air and whispered huskily in her ear. "Care for a ride?" Simultaneously, he opened the door of his limo, making her jump at the sudden friction.

She gasped and looked at him, then at the now open door. It took her a moment to recover, but then she met his gaze again and smiled. The heat in her eyes was unmistakable.

"I'd love to."

It felt like two years prior. He was sixteen again and Blair Waldorf had just willingly decided to be with him – even if nothing was official yet – to be _touched_ by _him_. He didn't know why it was so different this time than it had been all the times before, but somehow it was. He was barely able to keep his palms from sweating and his hand from shaking as he gestured for her to enter the limo. He caught a glimpse of her bare ass as she tucked her short, short skirt over it, and groaned.

Blair smiled to herself when the door closed behind Chuck. She'd heard his groan very clearly and knew her plan was working. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew he'd insist this was his idea in the future, but at the moment she refused to believe it. This was only happening because _she_ was willing it to.

"Well, this is certainly a pleasant surpri-ehh—" His voice left him when he saw her two top buttons undone at the top of her already relatively low-cut shirt. Her silky curls danced around the cleavage peeking out. His eyes were drawn to where they lay and when he looked up to see her devilishly heat-consuming dark orbs staring at him with a smile that portrayed complete innocence, he nearly came in his pants.

Blair leaned back on the leather seat, twirling her fingertips in a few of her brunette locks. "I was in the neighborhood," she said. "Thought I'd stop by."

_Pull yourself together_, he scolded himself. _She's only doing what you've been doing to her for the past week and a half. Get. A. Grip. _

"Change of heart?" he asked casually. "Last I recall, you were shoving me out of your room and forcing me to leave."

She flushed slightly and then played with the hem of her skirt. "Yes, well, I had some time to think, and I came to the conclusion—"

"That you want me_ very badly_."

His voice was rough and husky. His eyes very clearly portrayed how very restrained he was feeling. It was different this time. He could feel it. She'd never searched him out before. It had always been him after her, and all that had changed since his last seduction was her knowing he knew her secrets. He'd never known her to fall so easily into his trap. Though, at the moment, it felt like he was falling into _her_ trap.

She drew her finger along the lapels of his jacket, smiling when his jagged breathing portrayed the arrogant, cocky, sex-is-my-air outward appearance.

"I think that's _you_, Bass." Her eyes flickered to his.

He leaned forward until they were only a breath apart. "Well?" he whispered, his hand creeping up to one of her now nearly bare thighs and skimming the soft skin. Heat radiated off his hand.

She caught her breath in her throat, intoxicated, but she managed to recover her resolve for another sole moment. She nodded. "Yes."

He took her. His hand grasped her thigh now. He pressed himself against her, forcing her farther into the back of the seat. He ripped at her shirt. Buttons flew across the seat, one of them catching in his mouth. He spit it out in haste and slaughtered her mouth with heavy, moist kisses before she had time to react, even to laugh.

She moaned against him, chills shooting up her spine and to the tips of her toes and fingers with the way he ravaged her so gently. She would not let herself give in though, not completely. She had him in the palm of her hand. Now it was time to break him. She shoved his pulsing body away.

"Wait."

"What?" he asked, breathing heavily.

She was silent for awhile, studying his eyes.

Slowly, his hands eased on her and he nearly pulled away all together. "I wasn't _wrong_, was I? You _were_ saying _yes_ to my hate-sex proposal, right?" He'd pound his head against the wall for hours if he'd miscalculated in a frenzy of heated, hopeful lust.

A smile slipped onto her perfect lips. "You weren't wrong," she confirmed.

His mischievous smirk reappeared back on his face as if by magic. In a flash his mouth was possessing hers again.

She made a small noise of disapproval and pushed at his chest to get him to stop.

"What?" he asked again, surprisingly not sounding annoyed.

_He's so desperate in lust_, she thought. _Even more fun_.

"One condition."

He waited patiently, all deeper intentions evaporated for the moment.

"Just sex."

He blinked, his brows furrowed.

"This doesn't lead anywhere," she clarified, her fingers clenching into the now sweaty fabric of his shirt. "I haven't forgiven you for what you did," she said seriously, "and I never will." She forced herself not to get too emotionally swept up into what she was saying. "But if this is just sex for you," her grip on his shirt eased, "then I'm in."

It wasn't what he wanted, he knew. The last thing he wanted was to sign away his life as a potential _emotionally involved_ lover of Blair Waldorf, aside from a purely physically, sexual one. He _wanted_ her – in every sense of the word. But god if she didn't look like complete heaven in his arms right now. He wouldn't waste it, not when she'd finally agreed to his terms, and he could have this experience every day for as long as he wanted, forever if he pressed hard enough and conveniently kept her from ever moving on. So, he said the words quickly and quietly and forgot them a second later, because it was the only way he could keep her, at least where he was. He would not win if he tried to say _sorry_.

"Just sex."

His shirt was gone. His pants were off. He growled when she slipped the condom into place and drilled her nails into his thighs and shoulders. Her wet mouth on his, her fingers in his hair, the fast beating of her heart against his…made the moment memorable. He could pretend they were making love instead of just having sex. He could pretend they'd just gotten back together instead of finally coming to an agreement for a _just-sex_ pact. He could pretend he was going to propose in the morning and that she would say yes. He could plan out their future, their returned _I love you'_s, and the children they'd treat with the overwhelming love they'd never truly received.

It wasn't until after he realized he'd been pretending that he knew he'd completely lost control.

**…**

A/N: Hope you enjoyed, lovelies. Please review.


	10. Toxic Levels

A/N: Sorry this is late, guys! *pleads for forgiveness* The episode just really messed with me, as I knew it would (lol), but I really am going to try to stick to my one update a week that I've recently gotten pretty good at. Hope you enjoy this chapter. It's got some extra smut for those couple chapters that there was not so much. ;p Make sure to review, please!

***Katie**, the most wonderful beta in the world, thank-you SO much for helping me with this! :D

**DEDICATION: Kumiko212, I ADORE you for making those **_**THREE**_** amazing trailers for this fic! *hugs!*** _(guys, seriously, go check them out. The links are on my personal website listed at the bottom of my profile.)_

…

**Ch.10—Toxic Levels**

It took him awhile to realize that it was wet kisses that were decorating his skin from chest to hips and not a mini-rainfall. The kisses lingered, wet and hot and steamy. He felt her heated breath with the soft pressure of her lips, and his toes curled tightly when he felt her flicking tongue on his skin. When he opened his eyes, he saw her head rise to meet his eyes. There was a satisfied smile on her lips. She was clearly very proud of herself.

"You're up," she said, readjusting herself so she was sitting against his side.

"Thanks to you," he smirked.

"Mmm." Lazily, she swept her hand over his skin, peeling back the silk sheet that rested over his hips and running her nails lightly up his thigh.

He sucked in a breath.

"Blair—" he managed, tensing.

"Shh," she cooed, lowering her lips to the tip of his now erect member as she flattened her hand on his thigh and ran it further down his leg.

He groaned, the unbearable intoxication forcing his head further back into the pillow. His fingers dug into the mattress on either side of him, taking fistfuls of the sheets with them as she swallowed more of him. Her hair dancing around his inner thighs nearly drove him mad. In and out she took him – _in and out_. Her tongue swirled around him and her teeth gently dragged along the underside of his member. It wasn't long until he was breathing heavy and starting to tremble.

She felt the first of his convulsions and it shook her to the core. She'd been waiting for this all morning. Stalling a full hour before unwrapping his arm from around her waist had clearly been a mistake on her part. The slight stubble on his face made him look all the more desirable. She couldn't believe he hadn't been up for a fourth round after they'd arrived at her penthouse following the very long drive in his limo. She could have kept going the whole rest of the night.

She straddled his frame and slid down onto him, forcing him to fill her before he had finished. She cried out his name, shivering in her need and coming the second he filled her to the hilt. Then she collapsed on top of him, weary but beyond pleasured by the feel of his sweaty chest against her face.

"Shit, Blair," he said once he'd regained some of his air supply. "Hell of a way to wake a man up."

She smiled against his chest. "I waited until you opened your eyes."

"I wasn't complaining," he chuckled.

She raised her head to look down at him.

"In fact, I could get used to waking up that way."

She arched an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Definitely."

Immediately, she felt chills. That sexy smirk was back on his lips. Suddenly though, panic raced across his face, causing an identical reaction on her own face.

"Blair, get off, get off!"

"What?" she reared her head back.

"Off!" He pulled out of her.

"_What_?" she asked, now furious when she realized he was looking at his penis, panting heavily. "Oh god." She rolled her eyes and crawled off the bed, slipping her sheer white robe around her. "Don't tell me I hurt you."

He raised his eyes to hers and glared.

She crossed her arms across her chest and glared just as fiercely.

"I wasn't wearing a _condom_, Blair."

"You're _complaining_ that I had sex with you just now?" She scoffed. "Unbelievable."

Quickly, he turned to the side of the bed and put on his boxers. He intercepted her darting figure heading towards the bathroom.

Annoyed, she narrowed her eyes and began her speech. "This was your idea, Chuck. You wanted the sex pact and here it is. That means we have sex."

He sighed.

"Or, did I misinterpret something here?" she mocked. "Weren't you just saying that you weren't complaining about the little wake-up call I played on you this morning, and now—"

He placed a hand over her mouth to stop her from talking. "Blair, _stop_. Just listen to me."

She frowned angrily and ripped his hand from her face. "What?"

"I was _not_ complaining about your little display just now." He gestured towards the bed, almost laughing.

She looked at him in disbelief, not daring to ask him what the hell he was talking about again. Her expression shouted the outraged question well enough. She was irritated even further when he placed his hands on her shoulders. It took every ounce of patience in her to keep from shoving him away from her.

"I wasn't wearing a condom, Blair," he said again, looking very seriously into her eyes, forcing her to see the reason he had gotten so worked up. "I was panicking over the risks we might have taken."

"I'm on the pill, Chuck," she said instinctively, backing away from him and only realizing afterwards how much a scare it would have been if they had been taking that risk. Things were complicated enough with Chuck. The thought of an unplanned pregnancy to tag along with it would have made her panic just as badly as he had, if not worse.

She halted at her closet, stopped thumbing her way through her clothes and turned back to look at him. His hand was running through his hair. He looked overwhelmed and frustrated at himself, like he should have known she was on the pill. What with all the sex they'd had lately, he should have known. But he hadn't.

She crossed the room back to him. "Chuck."

Hesitantly, he looked up at her, bracing himself for her judgment. He'd jumped to conclusions. He'd freaked and now he'd gotten her on edge again. He was an idiot. _Of course_ she wouldn't act so irrationally. It was likely she had even been up for awhile before she'd tried to wake him.

She closed the distance between them and wrapped her arms around his neck. She pecked him on the lips. "I'm sorry," she said.

The tension in him eased. His shoulder relaxed.

"I should have told you I was on the pill," she said. "Thank-you for being considerate and looking out for me. A baby would complicate things." She started to kiss his jaw line from his ear to his chin. "Though, I highly doubt pulling out when I did would have helped matters if we had indeed been taking a risk." She smiled against him, playfully drawing her finger across his collar bone and back around his neck. She leaned into him, stepping closer.

He wanted to snap. If they were together he would demand an extended discussion on the subject. They would put together some sort of plan in case a baby _did_ manage to sneak its way into their lives before they were ready. He would tell her how he could shoulder the responsibility and be able to take care of both her and the baby should it happen. He would sit her down and make her realize how ridiculous she had been by snapping at him when he had told her to pull out. He had acted irrationally too, but her response…

And now she was just kissing him, pulling him back into sexual intercourse as if nothing had happened? Even if she _had_ apologized.

He sighed and cupped her face in his hands, kissing her in sweet abandon, his tongue plunging into the depths of her mouth, meeting her own slick tongue in search of his. There was nothing he could do about what had just happened. They were in a _just-sex _relationship. They could not discuss the situation like a couple would or avoid each other like might be the case with a one-night stand. Arguments were not to be taken seriously. Any intense emotions other than sexual passion were not to be indulged in. He hated it.

But he had learned to drown out things that upset or discouraged him long ago. There was always some sort of temporary antidote. He would turn to scotch when he left. He would not deny Blair what she sought now, because he needed it too.

He let the issue go.

The purple silk nighty she'd had on the night before was somehow still adorning the top half of her figure. Chuck let his hands wander beneath the hem of it and gentle fondle her breasts. He broke his mouth away from hers when the thin material needed to come over her head. She was pressed up against him now and creeping her hand down to his hips to push his boxers back down. Before she could reach far enough down to pump his large erect penis, he captured her hand and set it back around his neck.

She smiled. "You take all the fun out of it."

He pulled away suddenly and picked her up, carrying her bridle style back to the bed. He thrilled in the squeal he evoked from her and growled when she pressed herself up against him the moment he was hovering over her on the bed. He lowered his mouth to her breasts and devoted and innumerable amount of minutes feasting on each one. He loved the feel of her fingers in his hair, nails digging into his scalp and then into his shoulders. Her breathy gasps increased his libido enormously. Her scream when he licked her clitoris set him on fire. The feeling was so intense that it caused his head to lift up and he moved up so that he was hovering over her. Swiftly, he plunged into her just as she had done to him, pumping fast and furious and then painfully slow so the tension built inside her and she was begging for release.

"_Chuck_."

"_Blair_."

He collapsed on her after their climax, and she held him to her, nuzzling her face in the sweaty crook of his neck. She ran her hands down his back and up to his neck until his breathing returned to normal. For the first time since he had started pursuing her she felt her reckless emotions pumping through their sexual awareness. In her tired state she almost let the words slip. _I love you_. But she didn't. She fell asleep, all the while scolding herself just a little for feeling that flutter of happiness because he'd considered so importantly the risk of her getting pregnant.

….

He'd told her that he had things to get to, and while that was true, he really just needed to get away from her. He didn't know what was wrong with him, but he was suddenly wondering if this whole hate-sex ordeal was worth it. He didn't know any other way to get her back. _Baby steps_, he continued to remind himself. But it was torturous being around her and not being able to tell her he loved her. And she was oblivious. Completely oblivious to the pain he was in.

He was well aware he didn't deserve forgiveness from her, and the deal he was getting now was a relatively good one. He got to sleep with her on a regularly basis, no strings attached. He would have killed for a deal like this in high school before he'd fallen for her, maybe if she'd never been with Nate. He liked to think they hadn't just become friends because of their connection with Nate. They had all grown up around each other, all of them had been best friends, but things change as you get older. He was scared of never knowing her.

He shook his head of that awful fear, convincing himself that he and Blair were inevitable and that it was hardly the fate of her lengthy romantic relationship with his best friend that he'd maintained his friendship with Blair Waldorf. That confirmation however did not make him feel any better about the current situation. It would be so much simpler if he was still in the mindset of only wanting to sleep with her. Sometime during the last couple weeks he'd faced the truth that was not him just missing sex with Blair, but missing Blair. He'd tried to start over completely – Blair had intervened. He'd tried to socially destroy her – Jenny had intervened, more or less. He'd tried to make amends as much as he could by way of that cursed treaty – _he_ had intervened. The hate-sex now was another of his ideas, but it seemed no one was intervening this time. It was only him and his cursed heartbreaking thoughts and emotions.

And she didn't even love him.

_She didn't love him. _That shook him to the core. It hurt as badly as it had that night in Paris when she'd convinced him to come back. _Why had he come back? _Her teary eyes and sweet nothings about needing him in her life, despite what he had done. Why didn't he just go back now? He could abandon the Empire and everything it stood for. He could go try to become a completely different person like before, or he could just waste away his life in a whorehouse.

He'd never truly be living if he didn't have her. It was why he'd been so insistent on staying away, until Blair intervened. And now he had her. But not completely. And that tore him apart. Now that he was accepting the reality within him, there was no telling how long he could keep up the act with Blair. He'd be seeing her more, having her around him more often, and if she suspected he was teetering towards emotional grounds, she'd break off the pact entirely.

He needed scotch.

"Mr. Bass."

Chuck looked up to see the receptionist at Bass Industries smiling at him. She was an older woman, probably in her mid-fifties. His father had been kind to her and Chuck had always taken a liking to her. Aside from her referring to him in such a formal manner, he wouldn't have been surprised to find out she had been his nanny at one point.

"Are all the board members here?" he asked.

She nodded once. "Yes. Conference room 101." She gestured down the hall.

He nodded in return and managed to give her a small polite smile. "Thank-you."

The mahogany walls seemed to go on for longer than usual. The quiet clinking of his leather shoes on the shiny wood floor sounded like loud echoes in his ears. He was walking briskly, feeling fairly confident about this meeting with the board. He'd discovered what could be a new potential investment some weeks ago and he was feeling rather good about sharing the news with all of the board members, now that he'd successfully found the time to prepare a decent proposal. The investment could prove very profitable, maybe even more so than the Empire. It wouldn't get threatened by any sort of harassment either. He'd make sure of it. *

"_He chose to give me you."_

"…_tell me Jack was lying."_

"_I hope the Empire is everything you wished for, because now it's all you got."_

Chuck shook himself from his thoughts of Blair and focused on the task at hand. Finally, he reached the room at the far end of the hall and opened the door. His brows furrowed. It didn't look like anybody was in there. All the chairs around the long conference table were unoccupied. The blinds to the windows were open, but just barely. The equipment he'd requested for his presentation was nowhere to be seen. The only sign of life was one steaming cup of coffee sitting on the desk hardly used in the far left-hand corner of the room.

"Chuck Bass," he heard, and then a man entered the room. Dark-skinned, shaved head, relatively fit and with too big of a smile on his face, showing his sparkling white teeth. "Just the man I wanted to see." He held out his hand for Chuck to shake it. "Russell Thorpe."

Chuck's brows furrowed in complete confusion.

"I'm an old friend of your father's," he said.

Chuck nodded once and walked further into the room, closing the door behind him.

"I told that lovely secretary of yours to cancel the meeting with the board."

Irritation simmered in Chuck. "Only I have the ability to do that."

"And Lily van der Woodsen." He looked up and smiled from the chair he'd taken a liking too at the conference table. He was flipping through some sort of magazine or newspaper, maybe a large pamphlet, Chuck thought. "I called her and told her you were sick. She canceled the meeting."

"Why would she believe you? I've never met you before in my life."

Russell smiled knowingly. "Lily and I go way back."

Once again Chuck was confused. "But I've never met you. She must have been suspicious as to how you knew I was sick to begin with."

"Oh, she was," he stated, setting the folded over magazine on the table. "But…" he smiled again, too easily, "I just told her I'd spotted you on the street heaving what must have been left of the alcohol in your system. She bought it hook, line and sinker. Guess you're not so different from your father as I might have hoped."

"Mr. Thorpe—"

"Don't worry. I won't take up much of your time. As soon as I've said what I need to say, you can even have security escort me out, and if you want, I'll even apologize to Lily for lying to her."

Hesitantly, Chuck walked over to the table and sat down. He didn't believe a word coming out of this man's mouth already, but the offer to get him to leave seemed harmless, so he let himself give in and humor the man for the five minutes he planned on letting him stay.

"I'm taking over Bass Industries."

Chuck blinked. "_What_?" he finally managed.

"I'm also destroying it," he said bluntly, that awful smile back on his face.

Chuck nearly laughed. When Russell's calm serious facial expression did not change, Chuck frowned, half-worried when his eyebrows furrowed again. "What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice dangerously low.

"I have a debt to repay," he said, pulling one of his business cards out from his breast pocket and setting it on the table in front of Chuck. "I owe your father one," he said somewhat arrogantly, flippantly even.

Chuck picked up the card and looked the man back in the face. "I thought you said you were an old friend of my father's. Friends don't destroy their friends' _companies_." He scoffed.

Russell smiled calmly. "The key word being _old_."

Chuck frowned.

"Your father and I have not been friends for over twenty years." He stood to his feet and started walking away from the table toward the door.

"He's _dead_," Chuck said, as if that would change the situation somehow.

"Yes." Russell nodded once, a twitch at the corner of his lips. "That will make this even more fun."

Worry consumed his face. "Why would you tell me this?" he asked, trying to keep his desperation under wraps.

"To inform you of what's to come, of course," Russell said, pausing at the door. He smiled slightly and looked the boy over. "I'll keep in touch."

Chuck was too stunned to run after the man and ask how exactly he was going to go about destroying Bass Industries. A man as clever as this one seemed to be would not give his secrets away so easily. Whatever his father had done, it had been bad enough to warrant the destruction of a legacy, according to Russell Thorpe.

Chuck pulled himself together, straightening his suit and heading out of the room, the door left open behind him. He told the secretary at the front to reschedule his meeting with the board for sometime the following week. Something he told him he needed time to digest what Russell had said and find a way to thwart whatever schemes he had planned in mind. Chuck knew how schemers thought, what their process was, because he was one of them. This man was unfamiliar territory though, and Chuck was not accompanied with anyone who could help him figure him out.

….

_She'd sent a text for him to meet her at the telephone booth inside the opera house. The booth was surprisingly large and hidden inside large gold casing. The gilded feel of the outer layer was exquisite, as if belonging to true royalty. The interior was the size of a small bedroom. The two walls to the left and right on entering displayed two rich red velvet booths. At the far end was the telephone. There was a lock on the door, designed for extra privacy. _

_The set-up was far too lush for an opera-house, Chuck thought. But he didn't mind in the least. Blair Waldorf was absentmindedly twisting the payphone cord in her hand on the opposite side of the room and her lingerie was jaw dropping._

_White. So pure he could see every inch of her body through the thin material. Lace adorned her bra in subtle hearts and flowers. The corset followed her waist to her hips to a tee. When she walked from one side of the room to the other slowly, he could see how slim she was, how perfectly her legs were curved. The silky smooth see-through skirt that spread around from her backside halfway enticed him. It closed up like a jacket, its lining ending right above her dripping wet panties. When he looked up into her eyes, the heat in them nearly sliced his in half._

"_You came," she said sultrily._

_He growled, an erection fiercely coming on. This discomfort in his pants made him want to rip off his clothes and just lunge at her; it would be just what he needed after the unsettling meeting with Russell Thorpe earlier that day. He could see very clearly though that she did not call him there for a quick rump. She wanted a play of seduction. She wanted to play._

"_How could I resist?" He drawled, walking slowly toward her. "Any text from you promises a good time."_

_She raised her eyebrows in amusement. "Any text?" she inquired._

_He nodded once. "Any."_

_She took a step toward him. "Even the insulting ones?" she asked._

_He smirked, thoroughly pleased as to where this was going. "The naughty ones are my favorite."_

_She leaned forward until her lips were a breath away. "Mine too."_

_He captured her lips in a possessive, fierce kiss and ripped off the dainty skirt attached to her corset. He sensed she'd been trying to temporarily be a tease and pull away before he got hold of her, but she was too late to make such a quick decision. He grabbed her ass cheeks and squeezed, sinking his hands into the skin. Then, he lifted her up and her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. In the swift action, Blair threw herself into him and so sent him stumbling backwards till he hit the far wall, after which he fell back onto one of the velvet booths and succumbed to his desires._

_Blair tried to swiftly slip off of him, so as to tease him by not letting him have all of her so soon, but he caught hold of her waist when she was almost halfway off of his body and flipped her beneath him on the soft velvet cushions. _

_He reveled in her sudden gasp and slaughtered her mouth with another mind-blowing kiss. The moans that followed when she arched up into him made him desperate with need. Recklessly, he tried to rid himself of his pants and his shirt to no avail. He wanted to touch all of her, but the ache to get inside her was too great, and he knew if he sat up she would escape from his clutches and he'd have to pin her down all over again._

_Not that that potential risk wasn't incredibly intriguing and delightful to think about._

_He nearly froze when he felt her tantalizing fingertips underneath the back of his shirt, moving upward. They were slow and sweet and when he started to torture her with his own fingers, her smoothing movements turned into digging nails on his back. He growled and pulled her up as he stood to his feet, ramming them both into the opposite wall._

_Now she was just as desperate as he was. She pulled his hand further into her waiting heat, unable to smile from his groan because she was already tensing from the feel of him. Her head fell forward on his shoulder and suddenly the need to feel more skin from him was too strong to resist._

_She nearly choked him in the eventual success of getting his tie undone and his buttons popped open. In a furious haze she ripped the button-down shirt from his pants and hastily undid the buckle on his belt. She noticed how just before she pushed his pants and boxers down following, he grabbed a small package from his pocket and then quickly slid the condom into place. She did not think about their two second argument earlier in the day. She was too caught up in the moment, and if his arms had not been not holding her close and pushing her forcefully against the wall, she knew she would have collapsed the second he thrust up into her and she closed around him._

"We're almost to the Empire, Mr. Bass."

Chuck's eyes flickered open. After blinking a few times, he could see Arthur clearly. He nodded once and then turned to look back out the window he'd been staring through until he'd fallen asleep no longer than ten minutes prior.

"Thank-you, Arthur," he said. The opening between them shut fluidly when he pressed in the button above his head.

The dream had been good. Better than good, because it had been real life. The afternoon rendezvous with Blair had been just what he needed after the unexpected encounter with one of his father's wronged friends at Bass Industries. He'd been shell-shocked after the man had left, and even more so now that the effects of the fantastic sex with Blair in the telephone booth had worn off. He knew he could tell Lily what had happened, because she would probably be the one to fix it in the long run. First though, he wanted to see if he could call this guy's bluff or get him to drop whatever he'd been planning to go through with, so as to avoid getting Lily and some sort of legal ordeal involved.

He sighed and leaned his head back on the seat.

Only Blair could tag-team with him in a situation like this. They schemed, they manipulated, and they saved the people they loved through all of it, preventing them from getting caught. But all she wanted was sex right now. Not even friendship. He'd been trying to avoid thinking about that fact ever since he'd left her sated in her bedroom that morning, but it had crept up on him again. Thoughts of Blair seemed ever constant in his mind, and the thoughts he was having now were in no way pleasing to him.

He wanted her. There was nothing purely physical about it. That was only a small facet of what he truly wanted and needed. His "relationship" with her now felt even worse than it had before when he'd have to seduce her every time he wanted to spend time with her. What had changed now? She was seducing him, she was going willingly, and the only thing that kept it from feeling like they were together again was that she was so damn intent on keeping the strings as unattached as she possibly could. She'd even brushed off the risk of a potential pregnancy that morning when in their junior of high school it would have scared the shit out of her. That was how he knew she still wanted him back then, even if she lived in denial with that realization. Because being scared out of your mind meant you cared about how you'd gotten there to begin with, about what had gone wrong and with who. That was better than not feeling at all. And now that's what he had. Nothing at all.

The limo came to a stop and he looked out his window, taking in the familiar view of the front doors of the Empire. He lifted his head away from the door just as it opened by Arthur's hand. Chuck climbed out of the vehicle and gave his limo driver a tight smile in gratitude. Then he walked into the hotel lobby, promptly planning on brooding the rest of the day in his room over the circumstances that had come to past.

He should be rejoicing. He should be as cocky as ever with this new opportunity to scheme and display his esteemed business skills to the eyes of Manhattan by disposing of this _minor_ threat. He'd also had sex with Blair Waldorf three times that day, and he'd felt fully sated after each time. Nate was overwhelmed and very constantly confused with the arrangement he held with Blair. Serena was delightfully suspicious. The next step in his plan was complete, and thus far nothing had really gone wrong to alter what he decided was absolute perfection to carry through.

He should have been ecstatic.

But he wasn't. Because that night he'd be alone in his room missing her _I love you_'s and her_ I believe in you_'s and her _I'll always be there_'s… She wouldn't be snuggled up against him and she wouldn't be begging him to quick snatch some chocolate from the kitchen for her in the middle of the night. He wouldn't wake up with her arm wrapped around his waist or her head and steady breathing on his chest.

He was a hopeless romantic and it sickened him, but he couldn't help it. He wanted Blair Waldorf and he didn't want _just_ sex. He wanted everything. The next step in his carefully prepared plan was to make her fall in love with him again, but now he had no idea how to go about doing that, since he was so far gone in love with her that he couldn't stand her not being in love with him. It had been better when he was in denial of his feelings. It hadn't hurt this much. It hadn't messed with his mind so vividly and made him imagine their future as if it could imminently come true.

Logically, he should have just cut things off to stop torturing himself, because he knew it wouldn't be as bad if he had to just seduce her every day, despite what he'd fiercely believed before. But he knew he wouldn't go back to that. He couldn't. He'd miss what they had right now too damn much. It was so contradictory it caused him literal pain just to think about. But he knew he'd go back to her in the morning. And he knew he'd be watching her as she slept from exhaustion when they'd finished.

….

A/N: Hope you enjoyed! Please review! =D


	11. Shades of Red

A/N: Sorry this took so long. Both me & my beta have been having a very stressful week…and…weekend before that. **Thanks, Katie, btw, for getting this to me! Best beta ever! **This chapter is more Chuck/Russell focused, but I hope you'll still enjoy it. Please review.

…

**Ch.11—Shades of Red**

He'd been having a dream – another one about Blair.

_She wasn't dressed in lingerie and strutting around to seduce him. Her hair wasn't down and she wasn't in the four-inch high heels that he loved. She wasn't wearing fishnet stockings, and his favorite corset with the low-cut push-up bra wasn't on her. Logically thinking in those terms, he should have been just a tad disappointed, but he wasn't. She was in her wedding dress._

_He'd caught her eyeing herself in a three-way mirror placed in the center of her bedroom. She was playing with the veil hanging around her from the pristine tiara on her head and was completely oblivious to him watching her from afar. Maybe he wasn't even really there. Maybe he was invisible and he was being allowed the opportunity to watch this spectacular masterpiece of his lady in white. _

_She looked to be enjoying herself and that made him particularly awed and cheerful. She didn't look to be feeling insecure in the slightest. It made his spirits soar, like maybe he'd had something to do with it. There was no sure sign that this was his future he was dreaming of, but the assumption was clear in his mind that it was. Besides, she was glowing. He knew she would never look this magnificent for anyone else._

_A figure brushed past him but didn't seem to notice his existence. He was sure then that he was just watching the scene from beyond. He wasn't a part of it. The flush of blonde hair that had blown past him told him exactly who it was – Serena, the maid of honor, no doubt. He could not tell what she was saying to Blair, because the two seemed to be whispering, but what Serena said as she left stopped all train of thought from going anywhere in his mind._

"_Mrs. Blair Larking," she announced to her blushing best friend._

_Blair turned towards her. "Not yet," she smiled._

_Serena shook her head, in complete awe of her best friend's beauty. "Soon though."_

_Blair nodded, still smiling._

"_You're going to knock him dead in that dress, B. He won't know what hit him."_

_Her smile got wider as she blushed again._

_Serena winked and left the room._

Chuck had been shell-shocked, and now awake, he was suddenly freezing.

He had to stop dreaming of Blair. It was wreaking havoc on his nervous system and his temperature. The chills flooding through him hadn't been just from the dream; though maybe the feeling of his heart being ripped out of his chest could have been prevented if the sight of Blair glowing over marrying some guy that wasn't him wasn't so fresh in his mind. _Larking? Who the hell was that?_ It probably hadn't been a good idea to drink two glasses of milk the night before right after that enormous amount of scotch. Cracking the window open on what he thought would be a warm day was clearly a mistake too.

Chuck crawled out of his bed and shut the window in the living room. He didn't know how the air had reached him through the shut door of his bedroom, but he decided not to question it. Too much had happened lately from questioning things he thought he'd sufficiently come to conclusions on. The pounding in the back of his head told him that it was the chill in his gut that was responsible for the bitter air breaking the laws of nature.

His hair was a mess when he looked at himself in the mirror. It wasn't an abnormal occurrence but somehow it just made him feel lost. _Where was Blair's chin resting on his shoulder? Why weren't her arms wrapped tightly around his waist? Where had her toes twisted in the sheets with his been? _He didn't need to shave yet, but he would soon. It was exhausting, he realized, to be prepared this morning.

Somehow he managed to get through the ritual of brushing his teeth and changing from his silk pajama pants and robe into something a little more suitable and _business_-like. The pink tie he'd chosen had been last year's Valentine's Day gift from Blair to him. The coordinating shirt and suit that accompanied it had been her inspiration. He couldn't help but wrinkle his nose in disgust when he looked into the mirror again. He needed a distraction.

_You're not going to brood today. You're Chuck Bass and you're getting free sex from Blair Waldorf. You're also going to get the thrill of scheming against some minor threat that you'll have disposed of in no time_. He straightened his tie and stood tall, smirking at himself and feeling empowered. _But Blair will not be scheming with you_. He frowned. _She will have sex with you and then she will leave. She could care less about the threat to your company_. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, irritated then that it had caused some damage to the way he'd gelled his brown locks.

"You need help, Chuck Bass." He shook his head and left the bathroom, heading straight for the bar and a fresh bottle of scotch.

Just as the cork popped, he heard the phone warbling from his bedroom. His brows furrowed, wondering who could be calling so early. He hadn't slept well. It was only 7:30am. He hoped it wasn't Blair; he doubted she was up needing to have sex with him before breakfast. He forced himself not to think of breakfast in bed with her – pancakes, sausages, strawberries, whipped cream, eggs…

"Yes?"

The frantic voice of the receptionist at the front desk worried him.

"Calm down, Laverne. Take some breaths and tell me what the problem is."

He heard her gasp and then take some large steady breaths. Surprisingly, her following words were very calm and if she hadn't been having a panic attack at all.

"I apologize, Mr. Bass. There is a man down here requesting to see you. A Mr. Russell Thorpe?"

Chuck's face fell. The chill in his gut that had woken him consumed him again.

"He says he's an old friend of the late Mr. Bass, and… he has been very impatient in his request, Mr. Bass. I would suggest you see him very soon."

Chuck shook himself of his reverie, realizing how flustered the receptionist still clearly felt. It was hard to imagine the composed man he'd met the day before making a scene, but his receptionist sounded more overwrought than he'd ever seen her. Mr. Thorpe either was a very impatient man who had let his temper slip, or Laverne had not gotten much sleep the night before, much like himself.

"I'll be right down."

"I'll let him know." She was silent almost long enough for him to hang up. "I haven't disturbed you, have I, Mr. Bass?" she asked, suddenly concerned.

He shook his head. "No, Laverne. I've been up for awhile." He turned off the phone and set it back on its base. The scotch and the mirror went unvisited as Chuck headed for the elevator and made his way down to the lobby.

…

Russell looked different today – not _abnormally_ different, but different nonetheless. His bald head caught the glimmer of the light shining down from the high ceiling. It was irritating to look at, but too distracting to look away from. Somehow Chuck managed however to keep most of his attention on the daunting too-friendly look in the man's deceptive eyes.

"Laverne sounded a bit… _overwhelmed_ when she called up a little while ago. Any reason why that could be?"

"I haven't the faintest idea," he said calmly, leaning back in his chair. He rested his propped elbow on the arm of the chair. "Maybe she didn't sleep well last night."

"Perhaps," Chuck said, momentarily remembering his own lapse in solid shut-eye from the night before.

His eyes scanned the room briefly for some sign of even meager physical violence, but there appeared to be none. Even the receptionist had greeted him with the ordinary smile when he'd reached the front desk, as if her panic attack setting off warning bells in his head just before hadn't occurred at all. He was positive he hadn't imagined the whole occurrence. Something was definitely off. Had Russell _threatened_ her? He stiffened at the thought and then motioned to his drink as the cause. _"Too early in the morning for scotch,"_ he'd said, and Russell had nodded long with a knowing smile. Whether he sensed he was lying was completely undetectable. Chuck decided to worry about that later.

"What did you want to talk to me about?" he asked, shifting to a new subject. "It's five to eight. Clearly it must be important or you wouldn't have demanded to meet with me before most people would have crawled out of bed."

Humored, Russell smiled at him again. "And when do most people get up, Mr. Bass – at noon?" He picked up his glass of water and took a sip. "Trust me when I say not everyone is a billionaire child living in a hotel who can get up whenever he pleases."

"Perhaps I misspoke. Tell me what you wish to discuss."

Russell opened the briefcase propped beside his chair and brought out a manila folder filled with a few crisp sheets of white paper flooded with important documentation. He looked at it in anticipation and then back up at Chuck.

"I told you yesterday that I was going to take over Bass Industries and destroy it."

Chuck took a sip of his scotch, this time completely unaffected, and waited for the explanation to the manila folder filled with papers.

"Inside this folder is what I plan to do with it."

"Aren't you afraid I'll intervene somehow, if I know exactly what your course of action will be?"

He cracked a grin. "You're eighteen. You know nothing of the business world and how it works. The fact that you were able to purchase this hotel was by pure luck alone. Your father's name is what got you here; not any particular charisma or skill that might be coming from your end of things."

Chuck's jaw clenched, but he forced himself not to verbally assault the man. Instead, he casually took the folder from Russell's outstretched hand and began to flip through the contents.

On the first page there was a picture of a tall building, shimmering in the sunlight. Every inch of its outer walls was covered in tinted glass and flowers lined the front of the building by the entrance. It was a masterpiece, clearly designed for the wealthy and Chuck wondered what could be so bad about it. Then, he noticed the surroundings and the color drained out of his face.

"You're tearing down the Empire," he stated, unable to hide the wavering emotion in his voice.

"Yes, that will be the first step. I was considering starting with The Palace, but something about it just didn't feel right. Your father's legacy continued with you. The only way to effectively destroy Bass Industries entirely is to start from the most recent projects and move backwards until it's all dead and buried."

Chuck looked up slowly. Every ounce of his being wanted to pummel this guy into the ground.

"Besides, you are the target I'm imposing to destruction on. It only makes sense to tear down your accomplishments before moving on to your father's larger investments." He took another sip of his water.

Chuck pursed his lips tightly and then swallowed, willing himself to gain some control over the temper rising in him. It would only give Russell more ammunition if he showed his true emotions.

"All the other documents in there are of a similar nature. Well, except for the contract."

Chuck's brows furrowed. "Contract?"

"Mmm. The last sheet."

Chuck fingered through the papers till he got to the last one. The contract was filled with words he was sure he would not like. Demands, public resignation, and sales – things of that nature. Perhaps Russell even planned on humiliating him on national television. There could be no telling what lengths to wish he had gone, and Chuck had not had the time to devise a scheme.

He cleared his throat. "What does this say exactly?" he asked, looking back up to the man sitting across from him who was still wearing that irritating cheerful smile.

"That you're selling Bass Industries to me and will not in any way, shape or form be trying to reclaim it. Also that you will not be so much as _attempting_ to make another investment in all of New York, and that you will give me half of your inheritance."

Chuck laughed. "You're a wealthy businessman. You don't need my money."

"While that may be true, I'm sure Bartholomew wouldn't have enjoyed my taking money from his only son and heir. This is based on revenge, Chuck. It's nothing personal. You just happen to have Bart's DNA, and that makes you the target."

"What about Jack?" he asked, in a frenzy of desperation.

"Jack is of no concern to me. He and your father never got along from what I'm told. I gather what I'm doing now would even please him. Or do you disagree?"

He scoffed. "Bass Industries means everything to Jack. He craves it. He may hate me for having it and my father for having given it to me, but he would never want it in your hands, knowing you were going to destroy it."

Russell finished off his glass of water and wiped his mouth with his napkin. "If you'll notice at the bottom of the contract, I already have your uncle's full support."

Chuck scanned the page until his eyes met the bottom where Jack Bass's signature was clear as day. He gaped, gathering that was exactly the response he wanted. However, this time around it was not intentional. He was in shock.

He closed the folder and held it firmly in his hands to keep from shaking.

"Read through the contract and bring it to me tomorrow. I'm staying at the Hyatt. Room 516. If you fail to bring it to me before noon, we'll have dinner at six here. I gather you'll be up by then?"

Chuck nodded once, only slightly aware that Russell had stood up and was watching him.

"I suggest you sign that contract, Chuck. It could get a whole lot worse for you if you don't."

Chuck raised his head in an attempt to rid himself of the daze that had come over him and analyze the man's deceptive expression. His own face showed no hint of emotion. He hated the small knowing smile that appeared on Russell's face. Chuck wanted to ask questions but his voice was stuck in his throat, unwilling to comply.

"I'll keep in touch," Russell said, grabbing the briefcase beside his chair and heading out of the classy hotel restaurant.

Slowly, Chuck stood to his feet and made it into the lobby, ignoring the concerned look of the receptionist. He was glad she didn't call out to him. He didn't have the strength to display polite confirmation of his being 'alright.' He needed to talk to someone, and he needed to do it _now_. He had to release his fury.

….

He wanted to wait till at least one o'clock, but Blair "urgent" text at nine a.m. prevented that from happening. He would have been able to resist better if he hadn't gone through such an ordeal, but that wasn't the case, and he'd been in contact with no one he could trust with his outbursts in the last hour. He was hungry, and not for food. The half-glass of scotch he consumed told him that alcohol would not lessen the volatile mood that threatened to push him over the edge.

_Come find me._

_-B_

A game. Another fucking game. She wanted to play dress-up (or dress _down_), and she was leaving him clues for an idiotic scavenger hunt. He was furious. The picture of lacy red panties circling her ankles attached to the text sent him into a wild frenzy. He hated them. They made him shudder and groan for two separate reasons entirely – desire and heartbroken _rage_.

By instinct, he texted back:

_Tease._

_-C_

The playful response hardly reflected what he was feeling. He knew he'd have to face her with same mischievous demeanor and right then he didn't know how in the world he could. He needed to blow off some steam first and nothing aside from sex with her, or – what he would have _preferred_ – her holding him in her arms while he confessed the morning's occurrence would do the trick. He knew it with a certainty that scared him.

She wasn't in Central Park. He knew that even before he went there, but that didn't stop him from forcing Arthur to drive around it four times. She wasn't hiding in a dressing room at Bendel's either, but he still went there to distract himself. He wondered if sleeping with another woman just to get himself off would do the trick. He knew it would. He wouldn't have to deal with the complications of putting on an act to preserve the just-sex relationship with the girl he wanted everything and more from. He was tensed with need and the fury raging in his mind stretched across his chest inside, making him want to scream.

_Having trouble? ;)_

He turned his phone off. He didn't want any more texts from her. As a last resort he would tell her that something came up, and that their relationship didn't warrant sexual encounters as a top priority in their daily lives. Until he reached that point though, he would make Arthur drive around in circles. He knew she'd wait awhile for him. No one could please her like he could, and with her so enthusiastic over their agreement, he knew she'd wait. Once she'd waited three hours for him. He'd paid for it the next day when he was on the verge of coming and she'd abandoned him for shopping with Serena. That didn't prove him wrong though. It proved him _right_. The way their relationship was now, there would be no cause for her to punish him the following day or any time afterwards.

The fact was he knew exactly where she was. He didn't think she'd take the risk so soon after they established their agreement to tempt him to a private room at Victrola. There was too much history there. Saving his life and making him fall for her were the cornerstones in which they were built upon. Those facts alone should keep her from ever luring him there. He hoped she wouldn't use it later on to prove that they held no significance. Not loving him was one thing. Dismissing their whole story was a different thing entirely. He didn't think his heart could take it.

She wasn't on the rooftop of her building where he thought she'd be. But she _had_ been there. The little note fluttering in the breeze stuck just beneath the railing informed him of that.

_Too late. Maybe tomorrow._

_-B_

Oh, how he wanted to find amusement in the sentiment. Instead, he crumpled the note in his hand and threw it over the balcony. He made his way down the short twisting staircase and took the elevator to her floor.

She was lying on her stomach, flipping through a magazine when he walked into her room. She had a deep blue colored corset on with a matching thong, leaving little to the imagination. He knew he was hard but it wasn't overpowering enough to kill the emotional weakness from pumping through his veins. It was hard to imagine that his libido wasn't enough to distract him from his misery. He hoped it would be when he finally took her.

"I got your note," he said, lazily leaning against her doorframe.

She looked up at him, as if she'd known he was there the whole time. Maybe she'd even suspected he'd been standing there since she picked up the magazine or walked into the room. It was clear she wasn't happy that he hadn't shown up.

Her eyes went back down to the magazine and she flipped a couple pages, slowly licking her forefinger as she did so. "You also turned your phone off when I was freezing my ass off on the rooftop of my building."

He hated how sexual everything she did was. It turned out his libido was starting to build up after all, and as it did he found it easier to dwell on her near naked body.

"I'm not fond of impatience. Thought I'd toy with you a little," he smirked.

"Obviously a mistake on your part." She licked her finger slowly and then positioned herself so her pushed-up breasts were more in his view as she turned over the next page even slower.

He shook himself of the reverie she'd put him under and pushed his body off the doorframe. He knew what he was about to do was risky, but he had to try. He needed the comfort he knew she could give, and if it was possible that she could give in a little emotionally not only would he get through this thing with Russell, but it might help them take that next step to reuniting again. Maybe she could learn to love him.

"Listen, Blair—"

She looked up at him and all at once he knew she wouldn't bend to his will. She wouldn't help him through this nightmare.

"What, Chuck?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow. "What excuse could you _possibly_ have that would warrant my freezing my ass off on the top of the building?" she asked. Later, she would tell herself she had not almost _shrieked_.

The opportunity was perfect, and his mind raced with demands, but he knew what he was going to do. Again he put his emotional trauma to rest, let it rage in the depths of his soul, and hoped that it would be squelched in the midst of rough physical contact.

"You chose the location," he told her simply.

Her jaw dropped, but he came down on her before she could respond. His mouth slaughtered hers with passionate kisses.

She pulled herself up before she was completely crushed by their awkward, straining position and rose to her knees.

He took the initiative however to raise her from her feet and run her into the wall.

She cried out, mumbling something about how the bed was much more comfortable and had been closer than the wall.

He did not listen. He ripped her thong off and feasted on her half-displayed breasts. He needed to have it rough like this, biting at her neck like a vampire and fisting his hand tightly in her hair, yanking on her head to pull her closer than was possible. He was glad she was so caught up in the feverish heat between them that she did not interject when a few droplets of blood actually popped out on her skin. They'd never had it this rough before, but he needed release and if he sensed he might be hurting her too much, he knew he could – and would – stop.

"_Chuck_!" she cried out when he thrust up into her again and again.

She might have bruises and scars the next day. She might be incredibly sore and needing some extra attention from Dorota to recover completely. She would _definitely_ need macaroons and _Tiffany's_. But that was more than alright. The knowledge even made her giddy. Chuck Bass had _marked_ her.

It was sick how twisted her love for him was. To love the bite that caused her to bleed more then, than the air that kept her breathing, alive.

…


	12. Silverless Lining

A/N: Sorry sorry sorry sorry! Please forgive me, sweet wonderful readers. Life has been crazy (not to mention that _freak of nature _finale*mutters*) & writing/beta'ing has been almost IMPOSSIBLE to get to. Summer is just awful as far as free time goes, but I will try to update MUCH sooner next time. Hope you enjoy the chapter. Please review!

***A mighty wonderful thanks to the sweetest, most amazing, insightful beta ever, Katie! =D *hug* This chapter wouldn't have happened without you. ;p**

…

**Ch.12—Silverless Lining**

He didn't know why, but after the long nap that followed their rough rendezvous, Blair had suggested going out to dinner and then spending some time at his place. He'd been so shocked he hadn't been able to bat an eye. The questioning look on her face and the _"what?"_ that slipped out of her mouth quickly snapped him back to his senses. Then, he'd done the most idiotic thing imaginable in that moment and told her that it was _too early_ to go to dinner. In a heartbeat she'd agreed and then promptly came to the conclusion that the only thing they should do is go to his place at the Empire.

Blair had openly suggested that they go out together in public, even though they were in a just-sex relationship, and he'd blown it by being stupid enough to claim it was too early to eat dinner. _Moron. Moron. Moron. _

Still, it hadn't been a complete loss. In fact, it was far from it. They'd arrived later than expected to the Empire due to their multiple rounds of sex in the limo on the way over. Chuck then ordered chocolate, strawberries, whipped cream and champagne once they reached his room. It was awfully romantic, but he decided to risk it. Unlike earlier in the day when he'd been unable to open himself up emotionally in order to avoid crossing any invisible lines in their barely-there relationship, treating her like a princess in the confines of his suite came surprisingly easy.

Her eyes had lit up when she saw the round lids lifted off the trays displaying the tasty items. For a sole moment, he thought he saw her as he'd seen her the year before, about to tell him she loved him for what he'd given her. The light in her eyes didn't even metamorphose into heated lust like he'd expected. Strangely enough he was pleased that wasn't the case.

With the elegance that could only be seen in Blair Waldorf, the gorgeous brunette stood to her feet and crossed the room, taking a bite of one strawberry and munching quietly. He'd watched her in awe, completely enamored by everything she did. His eyes were glued to her soft tresses and the graceful curve of her neck and shoulder. She'd taken off her stylish dress awhile ago and was now adorned in only a silk cami and the most delicate of matching panties. She was breathtaking, like an angel, and it had nothing to do with her sexuality and the senses she aroused in his lower regions. Her essence presented itself so magnificently because of his love for her. He knew he could be stuck forever in this moment and never be unhappy. She was so beautiful.

His intense staring was his undoing, for a minute later she had stuffed a strawberry topped with whipped cream in his mouth. Some of the white residue had stuck to his nose and he'd been jolted for a few seconds wondering what the hell it was. When she started giggling, louder as the seconds past, it occurred to him what it was and he started laughing too, completely dismissing the inevitability of getting it off his nose.

Finally, she'd wiped it off and then kissed him. He'd grabbed her around the waist and spun her around in dizzying circles, managing to grab a few more strawberries as he carried her down the hall and dropped her down onto his bed. They'd made love more tenderly than he'd allowed himself in awhile. It had felt good to have her so close to him and not complaining of his loving caresses. It was almost as if she was in love with him and glorying in every minute of having him touch her and abandon himself to her senses, which he fully intended on exploiting enthusiastically.

He'd woken up the next morning and she was drinking orange juice at the bar. She had one of his buttoned-down shirts hanging around her half-naked body and that warmed him to the soul, but when he entered the room and started walking towards her, she turned to look at him and he saw empty eyes. Perhaps there was a hint of lust in those glorious deep brown spheres, but no emotional attachment, and definitely not love. He hated himself for getting his hopes up again.

"I ordered room service," she'd informed him and he'd looked towards the half-empty trays decorating the small table by the door. "It might be cold, but there should be some bacon and eggs left."

He'd looked back at her just before taking a closer look at the food and she'd flashed him a brilliant smile. It was frustrating to know that there was no genuine happiness or amusement behind that smile. All it did was state a fact: there was food left for him to eat. She was not even teasing him with the knowledge that she'd eaten most of it. It was sad that he'd wanted to be teased so mercilessly for that at that moment.

"Pour me a scotch," he'd said as he headed towards the food.

She'd raised her eyebrows, but said nothing, stretching her arm over and underneath the bar to retrieve a bottle of scotch and a shiny, unused crystal glass.

The amber liquid was set before him when he reached the place across from her at the bar. He'd felt her quiet heat and wanted to scream.

"How long have you been up?" he'd asked instead.

She'd shrugged. "Long enough for the room service to get here."

He'd waited.

"And to go out on the rooftop. I forgot how much I used to love it up there. It's nice today – the weather. A little windy, but the air isn't too cool."

That was when he'd cursed himself for not using his alarm clock all that often. It wasn't that he would have intended to had he remembered it existed, but the image that had rushed to his mind at Blair's brief confession was enough to stir his senses. The visual of her in nothing but what she wore now, his shirt and her hair fluttering in the breeze, the expression on her face breathtaking as she took in the city. Sometimes he'd forget those days. He would have liked to share that moment with her again.

He'd wanted to hold her then, just as much as he did every second he was around her since he started chasing her after that pathetic treaty had been written and then destroyed. He'd wanted to walk around the bar and encircle her waist with his arms from behind. Chills had shot through him at the thought that felt so real encompassing her head resting on the side of his face when he nuzzled his head against the smooth crook of her neck. Then, her hand would reach up into his hair and play with the locks there, massaging his scalp. He'd pull her tighter and then she'd turn around on the bar stool and start kissing him on the mouth. That passionate embrace would lead to him wrapping her legs around his waist and walking across the room to make love to her on the couch.

It was sad how he had the perfect no-strings-attached relationship and all he could think about was how damn incredible it would be to have those strings tied as tightly as possible.

So, instead of making his fantasy a reality, he'd brought the glass of scotch to his lips and swallowed it whole. His eyes drilled a hole into the nothingness in front of him. When he'd looked up, Blair had been looking at him peculiarly, hopefully not seeing through to what was bothering him. No matter how frustrated he might be over the situation, he just couldn't risk her leaving barely before the day had begun.

"Did you have any nightmares?" she'd asked, her fingers still encircled around her cup.

This time the teasing seemed genuine, but he didn't know what to believe. He felt in a whirl of lost hopelessness, ever trying to find a way out but never have the strength to successfully do it.

"No," he'd responded, assisting the word with his classic smirk. The response was bulletproof and he'd known even as he did it that chills would shoot through her from head to toe. He'd seen the goose-bumps that followed shortly afterward.

She was ready.

And so they'd had sex before he'd even touched the food. He'd picked at it a little before joining her at the bar. He'd chomped on half a strip of bacon and scooped up two forkfuls of eggs. But that had been all. Then on and off throughout the day they'd had sex, taking breaks only to regain their strength. It was the most continuous sex they'd had since the deal had been struck.

He'd needed it, and she hadn't complained once, so he'd continued the activity relentlessly. It distracted him very well from the loud pounding of his heart and what it demanded. The longest amount of time they went without the heavy physical exercise was when room service was called upon again for lunch. Blair was wearing even less that time and so he'd answered the door in his boxers. It wasn't much better than what she had adorned but his mind was not anywhere near the reality of where it should have probably been. All it told him was the need for constant sex and the rejuvenation of food and drink. Later he would curse himself for his indecency, but he would also justify it by saying it was _his_ hotel. _He_ was paying the room service and thus he could have answered the door naked if he liked.

All enjoyable things though, whether striving for the greater good or heading in a much more detrimental direction, must come to an end. The never-ending day of sex, sex, sex came to its end with a phone call.

"Russell Thorpe?" he cleared his throat, his eyes widening. He felt Blair still on the bed. "Right. Right," he talked into the phone, nodding his head along. "Give me fifteen minutes. I'll be down."

Chuck looked at the abandoned watch on the countertop and saw that it was just twenty minutes short of 6:00pm, the absolute latest time Russell would meet with him in regards to the fate of Bass Industries. Chuck hadn't thought about the meeting at all since he'd rammed Blair against the wall at her place much earlier yesterday morning. He hadn't made the time to develop a scheme or even consult Lily on the matter. Of course he didn't plan on handing his father's legacy over to this overzealous businessman for it to be destroyed. But beyond that he knew nothing.

Sweat droplets suddenly accumulated on his forehead, and it was not from the sex that had just been completed short of ten minutes earlier. He should have still been tired from the experience, but thanks to that one call, he was now very awake. Though he felt on the verge of exploding from the mass panic that consumed him, he had more than enough energy to quick freshen up and make his way down to the lobby and the little restaurant located a short ways off. He only hoped he'd come up with something genius to say on the way down the elevator ride.

He looked at Blair once before going about his needed duties. For a split-second he saw concern etched across her face and his heart raced, beyond relieved and actually thrilled that she might just let him in a little. It was for nothing though, as it always seemed to be, for the concern quickly passed into a blasé expression of _you ready for more?_

He was furious. What he needed now was some quick consoling and encouragement from her, and he could see he was not going to get it. Maybe it was his own fault for not trying hard enough to bring it out of her all day long and instead distracting himself with her body in an effort to not fall apart completely. But right now in the moment, he was anything but level-headed or ready to put more blame and guilt on himself.

"You need to leave," he said coldly.

Her brows furrowed in concern and confusion again, though most certainly not for the reason it might have been before.

"What? _Why_?"

"I have something I have to get to, Blair, and I can't have you around when I do it."

She stood to her feet and followed him as he made his way to the bathroom and examined his scruffy face in the mirror.

"Can we have supper first?" she offered.

"I'm late, and this is a very important meeting. I can't waste more time on my most recent sex toy by evading a most crucial development involving my company." He knew the words burned, or at least they would if he were in her place. But he had to push her, if not just to leave, to get his anger out onto her and make her realize how much he was suffering.

She scoffed. "Is that—"

"All you are to me?" he finished, his head whipping towards her with a frightening look in his eyes.

She was speechless. Her mouth moved a little but nothing came out.

"A _just-sex_ agreement, right? That's what we agreed to."

"Yes," she said instinctively.

"Good," he finished. "So you'll leave now and I'll hunt you down tomorrow."

"Chuck," she called out to him as he moved around her to enter his bedroom and quickly pick out the suit he would wear. "Wait."

He said nothing.

She sighed. "Can't I just…" her shoulders slumped, "wait here until you get back?"

He paused and looked up at her. He would not dare to hope that she wanted to be around him more than just to satiate her physical needs again. He could not let his heart break any further, especially when he was on the verge of such a deal breaker. He would be crushed after he returned from the meeting, even hopeless. He knew it without even having to think about it because he'd taken no time to prepare and in reality needed another schemer on his side to help him see another angle to come from with this guy.

"No," he said, his voice final and she knew it. He wasn't about to explain to her why her waiting around would just be too much for him to bear. So, he just moved around her again and walked into the bathroom to take his quick shower, hoping she would not be there when he got out. The pounding water thankfully drowned out the additional times she called out his name.

…

There were only two other times when he could recall feeling even _remotely_ this nervous. The first was when he'd set out to make the proposal for Victrola to his father, and the second was when he'd been on the verge of asking Blair to marry him just before everything had gone wrong, or after everything had, depending on how you looked at it. The jitters he'd had that fateful evening had had nothing to do with the commonly known fear of getting the words out of his mouth, as every man had before they asked the love of their life if they'd be willing to sacrifice their freedom to be bound to them forever.

No, it wasn't just that.

He had been on a time limit. It had been a miracle that Jenny had slipped out of his bedroom before Blair might have discovered her. There was no sure fire way for Chuck to guarantee himself that Blair would stay with him if she said yes to his proposal, but he had to try. He'd wanted her so badly – needed her. His nerves just before he'd tried to ask that penetrating question had been so overwhelming the only thing that swept over that in a heated rush was when she walked past him and out of his life for what felt like forever.

Getting shot and Eva saving him had felt like the perfect solution. He'd been so sure it would fix everything, but it never did. He'd blamed Blair so furiously he scared even himself in the intensity of it all. But it wasn't her fault. And he still wanted her, still needed her. She was always his undoing.

His nerves now were kind of like that, except they had nothing to do with Blair. They had everything to do with his reputation and what his father would think of him now. Would he approve that he wasn't fighting too hard for Blair right now, or would he find him pathetic for not putting himself out there enough to win her back? Would he be watching him with a steady, disconcerting stare, seeing how he would deal with this "Mr. Thorpe" or, would he have already concluded that there was no way – no matter what Chuck did – his son could get himself out of this situation where everything appeared to foretell the inevitability of destruction?

A lot was riding on this "dinner-date." Chuck had nothing to say, other than what would pop out of his mouth in the suave charming way that Basses naturally had. Chuck's nerves did not waver. They fused with his spinning mind and the rapid, uncontrollable racing of his heart. If his barely concealed expression blinded the average individual, the sweat droplets that were starting to pop out on his skin would draw more eyes if they looked close enough.

The room looked the same as it had before. There were more people now because it was later in the day and it was when guests might settle in to eat their evening meal. Russell Thorpe was sitting at the same table they'd sat at the morning before. He looked up at him right as he walked into the room and smiled in amusement. Chuck took a subtle deep breath and forced his feet to move again.

He could still feel the stirring on the back of his head from the look Laverne had given him as he'd walked past the receptionist's desk again on his way out to meet Russell for the second time in the last twenty-four hours. The woman was too much the frantic-mother type, and right now was not the time for her to be concerned about him. He could not confide in her like he'd once been able to confide in Blair. Thinking back on how concerned she had looked in the single glance he had spared her during his power-walk across the lobby was doing nothing for his confidence now. Suppressing all the elements of the current situation was harder than he'd imagined it would be, even in his assumption that it would be harder than he could bear. And the conversation hadn't even started yet.

"You decided to show up." The amusement had not faded from his face. He set down the small menu and focused his attention entirely on Chuck's face and figure. "You weren't sleeping, were you?"

Chuck blinked. "No."

"Girls then."

His jaw clenched, his thoughts racing back to Blair. He'd tried to put all thoughts of her on the backburner while he was at this meeting, but now it seemed inevitable. The term _girls_ however, was an insult to Blair Waldorf. In the instant Russell had suggested that at his delayed engagement Chuck had grown furious, as if Russell had intended the comment as an insult on Blair and not himself.

"How long have you been here?" he asked instead, crossing the short distance to the chair across from Russell and sitting down across from him.

"About twenty minutes," Russell said, raising his hand for the waiter to come around. He ordered a small salad with a cup of hot soup on the side. "I'm not real hungry," he informed Chuck.

Chuck shrugged off anything. He ignored Russell's raised eyebrows and only said, _"me neither"_ in response. The silence between them was thick and intense. It irritated Chuck that while he was trying to keep himself from sweating too much, Russell looked completely calm and content, sipping at his soup when it arrived and taking a few bites of his salad.

"Well, since you arrived, regardless of how late, I will let you speak first. Have you made a decision?"

Chuck forced himself to remain calm at all costs. He took a few steady breaths and then looked up at Russell. "I'm not handing over Bass Industries," he said, because in reality that was all he really knew. To his great disappointment, though he knew he should have seen it coming, Russell's ever-present smile stretched even wider across his face.

"No?" He wiped at his mouth with the smooth napkin and placed it back on the table. "Well, that's too bad." He raised his hand again and the waiter returned to the table, taking the glasses and plates with him. Russell placed his credit card on the small black leather holder and waited for the man to disappear.

Chuck's brows furrowed at the action. He wasn't about to question Russell about why he was paying when so much was at stake for _him_, but the transaction did still seem odd to him, along with the fact that Russell was clearly planning on leaving any second.

"I will take your father's company," Russell assured him quite off-handedly. "And you _will_ pay for not cooperating." He stood to his feet, leaving a disoriented Chuck in his wake.

Somehow he managed to shake himself of the arrogant, older man's spell. "You won't get away with this. I _will_ stop you. There's no way you can just _steal_ Bass Industries out from under me and my family – not without some serious collateral damage."

Russell chuckled. "That's just a risk I'm going to have to take." He grabbed the briefcase leaning against his now vacated chair. "And as far as you 'stopping' me?" He chuckled again. "You're just a stupid kid. How in the world could you be a threat to me?"

_You're just a stupid kid. _

Dear Uncle Jack's words rang in his ears, suddenly making Chuck completely unable to move.

"Pleasure doing business with you. I'll keep in touch." Russell smiled and retrieved his card from the returning waiter. Then he was gone.

Speechless and still unsure if he could move, Chuck stayed where he was for a very lingering twenty-five minutes.

…

He hadn't wanted her to be there when he returned and she probably knew that, but she was still sitting there on the couch in his living room when the elevator doors parted. He stopped stock still when he saw her and then resumed his walk, turning at the hallway and making his way into his bedroom. He closed the door, later wondering why he had not slammed it in her face to frighten or anger her into leaving.

"Chuck, tell me what happened," she said softly on the other side of the door.

He couldn't believe it. She was actually talking sweetly to him, as if she wanted to help him through this huge disaster with Russell and Bass Industries that he had only begun to understand. He knew he couldn't trust that this was going to go in any positive emotional state of their relationship whatsoever, but he wanted to. He wanted it so badly, just to crumble in front of her like he'd done on the night of his father's funeral. The sad, pathetic little boy was aching to unravel himself before her so he could be held. He wanted it, but he couldn't put himself out there again. Not tonight. Not so soon after he'd tried some hours earlier, or maybe it was the night before? If he did it this soon and she did reject him, as he suspected she would based off of past experiences, he would completely fall apart. He would lose it.

"Go home, Blair," he said through the door, resisting the far off temptation to open the block between them and let her in.

There was silence and he thought she was really going to leave. But there was no sound of heels vacating the premises, and the ding that should have come from the elevator doors opening and closing was not heard.

He sighed. "I'm not in the mood for more sex tonight, Blair."

Still, no sound.

He grumbled, cursing himself for what he was about to do next. He opened the door and there she stood, a deeply concerned look on her face. He wanted to trust it so badly, but he knew he couldn't. There was only one solution that would squash it entirely.

"No more sex with _you_," he said deliberately.

Her brows furrowed.

"We're not committed to each other," he continued. "We agreed to a just-sex relationship and we didn't exclude anyone else from being involved in each other as separate entities. Thus, maybe I do want to have more sex tonight, but it most certainly will not be with you. I told you to leave and stupidly you stayed behind. Now," he leaned forward a little, "I am not suggesting you leave, I am demanding it. If you don't, I will call security, and I can tell you right now that I am not bluffing."

A scoff was caught in her throat, so instead she backed away, her heart beating painfully loud inside her chest. She went to the living room where the rest of her clothes and other items were gathered and dressed herself appropriately. Then, she left.

There was a sigh of relief when he heard the elevator doors close and the sound of her heels dissipate entirely. He had not dabbled into any real emotional hurt like he'd planned on, but if he was sticking with the signs that she'd given him, aside from the most recent ones that he had no idea how to explain and in fact seemed completely imagined by his own mind, anything based on something other than sex would probably prove futile. It was officially the only thing their relationship was based on.

He walked to the bar some time later and took some orange juice and scotch, mixing the two, and thus reminding himself of his encounter with Blair earlier that morning. He'd felt incredibly torn up then too. It had been a slow process at first, but his sanity was quickly driving to the edge of a cliff now. The repercussions Russell was bound to dish out as early as the following morning would be just the thing to push him into that deep dark pit of hell. He would push Blair away entirely then. There would be no sex. There would be no _them_. Not with her. Maybe not with anyone. He needed relief and renewal now and there was no one to give it to him.

After he'd finished about three glasses of the mixed drink, he headed to his bed and proceeded to pass out. Unfortunately for him, only his eyes closed. His mind did not shut off. It was still racing. And he felt that chill coming from the window he thought he'd closed earlier that morning. He realized then that he hadn't eaten at all. Nothing for supper at least. He'd been occupied with Blair all day and just now he'd taken nothing because of the nerves that had overwrought his senses in preparation for the meeting with Russell.

He climbed out of bed and went into the living room. The window was shut, but that didn't scare him or make him doubt his sanity. He knew he was sane enough to know when things were real and when things were imagined or simply memories. What he'd experienced just now had probably just been a very tangible memory from when he'd first woken up that day. He dismissed it and searched out the leftover food from that day. He chowed down on it – cold – and then returned to his bed. He flipped off the light switch, closed his eyes and was unable to sleep for the next four hours.

During this time, he thought of Blair and he hated it. He wanted to dream of something other than her, and certainly something other than the nightmare Bass Industries was plaguing him with. Thoughts of Nate, Serena, Eric, and Lily briefly flitted through his mind but they all disappeared the instant Blair was connected to them in some way, and she always was. _Dating Nate. Giggling with Serena. Playing dress-up with Eric. Lily going on and on about how Blair was like a daughter to her. _Most of these memories were brought up from childhood and they were happy memories, but to Chuck they were awful. He was groggily overjoyed when he was finally on the brink of sleep. He had no dreams that night, and he was relieved.

…

A/N: Please review! I swear B's POV is right around the corner. Happy ending though? That's a ways off. ;)


	13. Ignorant Indecision

A/N: Sorry for not updating sooner! My summer has been CRAZY busy & since my beta's has been equally busy, if not more so, I have reluctantly decided to go without a beta until we're both on a level playing field. Heh. At least this way I can get fics up before September when I'll be even BUSIER. XD

Hope you enjoy this chapter! B's POV – _finally_. Lol.

…

**Ch.13—Ignorant Indecision**

She'd been thinking about it all day. Well, that wasn't true. She'd been thinking about it since the second she'd left his suite the night before. She'd skipped dinner because of it. Even writing about it in her diary hadn't helped. Mainly because she knew he wasn't peering into her most private book anymore, and strangely enough that disappointed her. But also because her dearest Audrey couldn't help her through this particular situation just by listening, and that was all she'd really get from her long ago past idol. It was the first and only time she'd admit that to herself. _Audrey was precious_.

The brief thought of purging herself in the toilet to get back at Chuck quickly dissolved when she realized there were supposed to be no feelings between them and he certainly wouldn't be affected by it. Following that though was the very great realization that he _would_ be affected by it. If nothing else was to be learned from their last exchange, it was that Chuck wanted anything but a just-sex relationship from her. She'd tried to ignore the signs before, but when he'd started driving her heart into the ground until she'd thought she was nothing but ashes under his painful burn comprehension had dawned, even before she'd gotten home. Chuck was going out of his mind, trying to maintain whatever they had going, because losing her would be too much, and she would soon let pass some dirty insults he threw at her if there were no emotions involved.

Trouble was that she was feeling anything _but_ emotionless over the situation. The fact that she'd been so worried about him even _before_ he'd left to deal with whoever it was at whatever meeting told her loud and clear that she wanted more too. It wasn't just her loving him and not wanting to anymore, and it was stupid that it had gotten to this place so soon, but seeing Chuck so lost and helpless – and not solely over her – summoned her maternal instincts towards him. She could not do anything but see to that he was alright. Of course, that risked lowering her guard just a little. From his reaction though, it had not looked like she was lowering _anything_ to him. He'd been so caught up in what had happened at the meeting that he'd hardly been able to look at her straight on without fuming furiously.

She didn't know what to do with what the situation was now. She could only wait and hope he would come to her as he'd said he would. She was obviously important to him. She could not come up with any other excuse for his recent irrational behavior, though she assured herself that she could be creative if she was observant enough when she saw him next. After all, it would be too complicated to delve into the possibilities of how to get from just-sex to romantic-relations between them, or even friends or acquaintances. If she could manage it, she would help him through whatever he was going through with it not looking too suspicious. If not, hopefully it would pass. Surely there were other people who could also aid him in such trouble involving the late Bart Bass, his evil Uncle Jack, or some other horrid new enemy. Being the sole heir to such a huge profitable legacy no doubt invited all sorts of conniving creeps out in the business world.

She tried to let herself think on that. As of right now, she didn't know _what_ to call whatever their relationship was. A day or two ago she could have labeled it perfectly fine with only avoiding eye contact a second or two after denying if she still loved him or not. That was not the issue. It hadn't been at least. Now it seemed the epitome of everything that consisted between them. She hoped it was just her thinking too much and that there would be no issues between them when he came to see her today – if he came to see her. She hoped he would. _But why did she care?_

She stomped on her feelings and cleared her head when she heard a knock on the door. That was him, no doubt. He'd come just as she'd known he would, and now she could go back to feeling only slightly bad for him and his Bass Industries situation. He had broken her heart countless times after all. His temperament the last couple days could be a total façade to scam her into telling him she still loved him. _She would _not_ fall for it._

It occurred to her that it was unusual for Chuck to actually be knocking on her door when he wanted inside. That made her nervous, especially if it meant he was going to bring up any real feelings between them. But she shook herself of that notion with the possibility that it was someone else entirely. That didn't help much either. She was suddenly aching for Chuck's touch. It would cure all these potential misunderstandings for sure, along with being incredibly satisfying, as always.

She opened the door, making sure to take her time walking across her bedroom. She couldn't let him think she'd actually been anticipating his visit, even if that's how it had been for them thus far. She had thought it had been exciting on both ends, but maybe she had ignored some subtle signs of irritation that had inevitably built up to the explosion from the day before.

"Chuck." She smiled crisply, trying to come off as slightly flirtatious. It was clear though that there was that cold edge to her voice that could hardly be ignored.

He said nothing for a few seconds. "May I come in?" he asked, gesturing towards the interior of her room.

Her brows furrowed, first in confusion and then amusement. She folded her arms across her chest. "I've hardly known you to be one who asked for permission."

His eyes flickered to hers, well aware that there was a scoff trapped somewhere inside her throat. He had known the first few moments would be awkward, but he had not thought through the challenge she would present due to his behavior the previous day.

"These are special circumstances," he said.

Blair raised her eyebrows. "Are they now?" She did not sound convinced. "Well then, by all means, please come in and explain them to me." She stepped to the side and closed the door soundly behind him.

Her arms were still folded across her chest tightly when he turned around to look at her. He was hesitant now, and her calculating stare did nothing to help matters. It was too soon, he now realized, to come after her so quickly following his "explosion" the previous day. It needed to be done, but he was not well enough prepared to go through with it. He was still aching from it all, and his nerves were shot. He knew his defenses would go up immediately in response to any demeaning words she'd stab him with if he tried opening up again. _Maybe he should go to Nate with some of this. Serena might even understand. _They wouldn't understand about Blair though. Only he understood about Blair. Problem was he didn't understand her at all right now. His thoughts were muddled with everything concerning Russell and Bass Industries, but he couldn't use that as his only excuse forever. _She_ clouded his senses. And the fault was his alone that he wasn't denying the emotional connection he held to her anymore.

He slipped his hands into his pockets and decided to go with the semi-truth. A façade at this point would be laughable. Sincerity entering into the equation would be a good re-entry into their physical relationship, _the one they were best at_.

"I wasn't myself yesterday. I…" he paused and took a breath, "apologize for my actions."

Her eyes sparkled in amusement. For a moment, she fought the urge to laugh, and then to keep herself from looking too serious and understanding of his confession. Somehow she managed to shrug it off.

"Apology accepted," she said.

His eyes lifted to hers. _Really? _They were blank for the next five seconds.

"Yes, really," she said, as if she'd read his mind. "Our…_relationship_ is not one that warrants a lot of impatience since it is nothing beyond the physical. Thus, I can hardly be too upset over a little temper tantrum. Even if it _is_ the second one this week." She smiled brightly, crushing every hope inside her that would have him prove her wrong. The fact of the matter was that what she'd just described was exactly how things were, or how they were supposed to be at least, what they'd said they were. Unless one of them chose to verbally change that, their relationship could not be defined otherwise.

He was torn between fury, self-inflicting torture, and bewilderment. But he sought out the strength to focus only on the latter, and then to transfer his "recovery" into the cockiness that he'd become so well known for.

"My, my, Waldorf, that's very…_mature_ of you."

Her eyes continued to twinkle. She moved past him and locked her door. When she turned around to look back at him, a sensual heat had replaced the uncertainty and awkwardness in his gaze. It was mindboggling to her how quickly his libido was able to jerk into motion, but it did have its advantages. She discovered she was ripe and ready for him in her lower regions as well, as if all that had needed to be done was to flip on a switch. She decided not to question it.

"I gather there's another reason you came?" She raised an eyebrow, sauntering seductively over to him. Lazily, she draped her arms around his neck, thrilling in the feel of his hands instinctively settling on her waist. "Surely you didn't come all the way over here just to apologize for your little meltdown." She pouted prettily.

He decided not to mention the fact that he'd had Arthur drive around the block surrounding her house for approximately two hours before he'd decided he was ready enough to step inside the building – even if he'd clearly been wrong on that accord. Her pretty pink lips were a siren song and they were so tempting only a few inches away.

"There may have been another reason," he drawled, squeezing one of her hips enticingly. He felt the shivers that ran through her again. They coincided with his own.

"Mmm," she leaned in, "I thought so."

Her lips captured his in a slow, sensual kiss. The kiss escalated gradually, taking at least thirty seconds for his hands to get under her skirt and her fingers to push off his jacket and tumble through his hair – despite the fact that the last few minutes had been thick with sexual tension.

It took five minutes to make it to her vanity, and about point two seconds for everything sitting atop it to fly off onto the floor. Gallantly, after round one, Chuck carried her bridal-style across the room to the bed, so as to avoid any broken glass that might injure her dainty feet.

…

He decided he was feeling particularly cheerful after his encounter with Blair. He hadn't been sure exactly how it was going to go down, only that he'd been hoping the end result would be sex. That had luckily been the case, but no matter how many times he ran through the set of events in his head, he could not come to grasp Blair's simple forgiveness. She had never let him get away with something so easily. It was possible that she was just acting the part and would beat him over the head with it later, but her acceptance and recovery of his actions from the day before seemed so genuine. And that wild passionate kiss that had started things off made him forget all about any irritation and confusion that may have come over him in the course of those first ten minutes in her bedroom.

The rush of her sexual enthusiasm still drugged him. It was illogical that he should be feeling so severely bubbly, but he couldn't help it. After he'd gotten the strangled apology out and she'd kissed him, he'd let himself believe they were a couple making up over some trivial fight. Naturally, during those instances when they had been a couple, fierce declarations of love had been exchanged throughout the hot, pounding sex, but he'd pushed aside that little matter for the time being. Life was good again. He was in good standing with Blair Waldorf. Their relationship was still intact, no matter how unsettling certain aspects of it were, and he hadn't heard a word from Russell Thorpe all morning. Maybe all the trouble he'd foreseen with this man had indeed been overdramatized in his mind. Perhaps he'd intimidated him after all, and everything Mr. Thorpe had boasted about was nothing short of talk and no action. Chuck's ego flared further at that thought. He suddenly couldn't wait to have sex with Blair again – _celebratory_ sex.

The overwhelming happiness vanished in an instant when he caught sight of a newspaper headline spouting his name in big bold letters with some very unsatisfying news to follow. Chuck snatched a newspaper off the stand, ignoring the curious gaze coming from the older man amidst his other magazines and newspapers. It was obvious the man recognized him and was trying to decide whether to judge him in a positive or negative light, but Chuck could have cared less. All he saw was – _Bass's Hotel Goes Up in Flames: Termites Invade_. The journalist was probably going for overdramatic, he thought, but it still didn't make the endless pit in his stomach keep from going any deeper.

The first thought – and he hated that this was what it came down to – was that Mr. Russell Thorpe had made his first move, however somewhat small it could be seen as in the long run. He could go into denial and proceed as if he had never met this self-assured man who seemed extremely intent on destroying anything profitable that may have come from Bart Bass's business enterprises, but that would be foolishness. Still, the possibility still could be allowed that this was a fluke. Perhaps dear old Uncle Jack was messing with him again, despite his demand that he never return to New York. It was not entirely unlikely.

To avoid guessing and whatever failure that might arise from potential scheming, Chuck purchased a pile of the scandalous newspapers and called for his limo. Suddenly the day was not so bright and sunny and cheerful as it had been immediately after his encounter with Blair. He could use her hot, waiting body as a distraction now, he gathered. But he could not give in to that temptation. He would go back to The Empire and talk to Laverne. She would know the truth. There was no way termites had so infested his hotel that every guest was now checked out and making a mental note to stay away from the establishment should future visits to the city occur.

He tried not to storm into the Empire as soon as he arrived, but the already surrounding reporters and curious gazes from onlookers made him nervous and mad as hell. He swung the front door open with such force even Laverne from the front desk looked at him with concern and edgy nervousness before he reached her.

She tried to smile at him as if nothing was in disarray, but she wasn't blind. She saw the fumes coming out of his ears and the fire burning in his eyes. He had no doubt heard the staggering news surrounding his beloved hotel. She was also sure that he would not like the news she had to give him, mostly because it would be delivered by confusion on her part and lack of control on his, even when he knew what could be known about the situation. Mysteries that threatened him were in no way appealing to the young Charles Bass.

"Laverne, would you mind telling me what exactly is going on here?" He did not bother gesturing to the reporters and onlookers behind him.

The older woman flattened her hands on the counter and smoothed them across the smooth surface. "I assume you've seen the article, Mr. Bass?" Her eyes flickered up to his cautiously.

"You assume correctly," he said, his hand clenching at the edge of the desk. "I've been bombarded since I stepped outside of my limo, and I'm sure if I'd stayed walking from half across town where I was when I saw the newspaper I would have been harassed much sooner."

Laverne decided not to address his angry sarcasm. It would only make matters worse, and she was a very trusted employee.

"Please tell me the journalist who wrote this idiotic article was just filling his head with hot air, knowing the press would eat it up."

She sighed.

"Laverne—" he warned.

"It is somewhat complicated, Mr. Bass."

"Explain _complicated_."

"We received several complaints from guests that termites had been spotted within their temporary living quarters. However, none were ever found. The exterminators came and went, having thoroughly investigated every room in the hotel, but there was not a single termite in sight. Notices were sent out to all the guests, but complaints came up again – so frequently that soon people just started to leave, even with the assurance of the exterminators that, I assure you, Mr. Bass, have scoured the building more than once."

Chuck searched his eyes for some sort of sign that she was hiding something from him, but he could see nothing besides the honest truth and perhaps some desperation over the whole situation. He was feeling some himself. If the situation was as it seemed, then someone was definitely creating this situation for his torture alone. There were a few potential names that popped into his head as to who might be causing this havoc, but the one that stood out the most came blaring across his cell phone screen when it started to buzz moments later.

With a knowing sigh, Chuck closed his eyes briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Russell Thorpe," he said far too cheerily. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" He could sense the too bright smile on the other end of the line, and it made him want to explode. He took a breath. "Though I'm sure I already know. This ridiculous line of accusations and convenient continuous complaints is your doing, correct?"

"I suggest you get some disinfectant, Mr. Bass."

…

A/N: I know I don't deserve your sweet affectionate words of loveliness, but please review anyways. Because you love me. ;)


	14. Don't Love, Unless You're Mine

A/N: Here it finally is. I apologize for the delay with no more real excuse than I had last time. Hopefully with the constant episodes when the season starts up again, I'll be able to update more frequently. Until then, be patient with me and just know that I have not given up on this story and I won't ever. You guys are too good to me! =D

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended. Unfortunately, unbeta'd again.

…

**Ch. 14—Dont Love, Unless You're Mine**

…

**Are you okay?**

**-B**

He blinked twice and squinted at the screen to make sure he was not imagining it. _Was Blair Waldorf actually texting him out of genuine concern? _She wasn't the type to get desperate and clingy, especially given the type of relationship they weren't currently in. That point was further confirmed when his count of new text messages resulted in one – from Blair Waldorf. It wasn't possible that she'd heard about the incident with the termite infestation already, was it? It was certainly buzzing in the lobby when he'd arrived the afternoon before, but somehow he'd thought it might die down by now. After all, it had been a set up. Soon enough the guests and staff would realize that, to hell with the god-forsaken press.

However, his stomach knotted when he noticed just how many missed calls he had, and not at all from the same person – Lily, Nate, Serena, some of the men off the Bass board. He didn't dare listen to the voice messages they'd left. Instead, he pulled the covers off of his body and scooted toward the edge of the bed. More missed calls there, many of them from Laverne at the front desk. Taking a deep breath, he reached out his hand and picked up the phone, returning her many calls.

"Laverne," he interrupted her frantic hello, however subtle it might have been. "What's going on?" He ran a hand through his hair and tried to keep from shaking. _This is ridiculous_, he told himself. Surely he was overreacting. This could very well be more fussing over the termite outburst from the day before.

"Mr. Bass." The older woman quickly covered up any trace of significant nerves from her voice. "Thank-you for returning my call."

"_Calls_, if I recall, Laverne," he said, glancing at the blinking number **7** on the landline phone base.

She cleared her throat delicately. "Things have become somewhat complicated, sir."

"That's what you said last night, and it turned out to be nothing other than some prankster messing around, probably to make me look bad for some bizarre reason."

He wondered what Russell would think of him calling him a prankster, or how Laverne was interpreting his casual tone.

"Is that what you discovered?" she asked, half flabbergasted.

"Well…y-yes." He felt his mental footing slip ever so slightly. "I mean, there was no evidence. You had exterminators come in and search out the place and find nothing. Doesn't that suggest very strongly that all we had on our hands was a trouble maker, not an actual bug infestation?"

There was a long silence on the other end. When Laverne finally answered, Chuck thought he might have stopped breathing during the time she'd remained silent, maybe even passed out. He had gone completely numb, except for the chill rippling up his spine.

"While that might have been a correct assumption to comfort yourself with yesterday, Mr. Bass, I'm afraid there is no such easy way out to the problems we are facing today."

"_Problems_?" His brows narrowed.

She sighed. "We've had several reports of bed bugs, sir. I've called in the exterminators and they are going floor by floor, but as I'm sure you can imagine, it will take awhile to get throughout the entire hotel. In addition, if the guests leave with bed bugs amongst their belongings and connect the dots, it will not be good for business. I tried calling you, but—"

"Are you telling me these bugs are not the result of a rumor guests are simply too willing to believe?"

"I'm afraid not, sir."

Chuck began to pace. Termites eating at the walls was one thing. Bed bugs biting his guests and going home with them to cause more damage, not to mention the well-being of his future guests, was more difficult to handle, especially since this was actually a real threat.

"How are you dealing with the evacuations?" he finally asked. "With the guests."

"We're being very vague about it, sending a note followed up by a member of the staff strongly suggesting the immediate departure of all guests in each room because of some unhealthful problems that need to be dealt with within the hotel."

Chuck nodded along, deciding the approach was solid.

"The exterminators are very discreet," she assured him.

He pursed his lips. "Any other issues you've come to face with this morning?"

Her shocked silence to his returned causality slightly unnerved him. It reminded him that the situation he was in was hardly one he could get out of simply by acting blasé and as if everything could be solved by slipping some green bills under the door.

"A couple fires were set," she said, holding her breath. "Small ones."

"_Fires_?" he asked, completely blind-sided by the knowledge.

"Yes. I assure you though that these were probably set by those dreadful, yet not overly intimidating troublemakers you mentioned before. They only set off the smoke alarms on the direct floor and they were extinguished before any notice was made to the fire department."

Chuck walked fast out of his room and headed straight for the bar. He needed some scotch. Badly. A fire was a fire, no matter how small. It reminded him of the fire set in one of his father's house in the early days of the Bass legacy. Somehow that sent a shiver of foreboding awareness through him.

_He did not want to be like his father. _He was better than that, as Blair had once said.

"Anything else?" he asked.

"That's all for now, Mr. Bass. Though, I would strongly suggest that you vacate your penthouse, just as we are asking the staff to do. I don't know how long the bugs have been here and how far they may have spread. This is the first time we're getting complaints from guests, but—"

"We received the complaints from the _guests_?" He could not breathe. "I thought you said the staff just noticed them, through their cleaning rituals or some other mundane task."

"I'm afraid not."

"Forget it. I'm not leaving my penthouse. If I leave, this whole hotel will go up in flames."

"If I may offer my professional opinion, Mr. Bass, you getting infected along with the rest may look noble, but it will also appear as if you cannot take care of your own hotel. Please seek other living."

He felt himself go hot and cold again, but then fury shot out. "You forget your place, Mrs. Baker," he growled.

She paled. "My apologies, Mr. Bass. What is it you would like for me to do?"

He sighed, regretting his arrogance but unwilling to make any apology. "What you're doing now seems to be working. Once all the guests have vacated the premises, I want you to make an adjustment to the schedule."

"I beg your pardon, but that isn't usually my—"

"I don't care who you cut, but until further notice only half the staff in each department is to return to work after today. I don't want this infestation spreading any farther than is necessary."

"But Mr. Bass, you can't just cut these people from their work. Some of them desperately need the money."

He wondered where she'd suddenly gotten this stubborn streak from and if he needed to use that warning tone of his again, but the very real worry in her voice softened him just a shade.

"The only alternative is for them to spend the night in one of the guest rooms, since none of them will be occupied by actual guests. They cannot go home."

"But their families—"

A world-weary sigh escaped him. His head was spinning. The scotch was not helping. It was making things worse. "I don't have time for this, Laverne. The bottom line is that I do not want these bugs to spread. Either half the employees temporarily take an extended vacation or they spend the time inside the establishment I've so graciously allowed them to work in. Do you comprehend?"

Another of Laverne's long silences followed by a sigh ended in, "I do, sir."

"Good. I'll check in with you later. It is likely that I will seek living elsewhere, but do not make any sudden decisions regarding the cleansing of my penthouse until I make the okay." He would give her that little pleasure.

"Yes, sir."

He ran a hand through his hair again and felt the pulsing fever sweating through him. The silk pajamas seemed to stick to his skin, though when he looked at his skin there wasn't a touch of perspiration on him. It occurred to him that he may be having a quite possibly dual mental and emotional breakdown. He set the inactive phone on the bar and started to cross the room, forcing himself to remain focused. He would send for new clothes, take a shower and spend the day outside. Maybe the fresh air would give him some insight. Whatever the case, he had to get out of this place.

When he got out of the shower, the clothes were hanging a safe distance away. He cleaned himself up, giving a self-assured nod to the mirror and turning for the exit. He stopped suddenly when he was met with two grim set faces on individuals incredibly conservatively dressed. It was a well-known attorney of his and a young twenty-something blonde beside him. He recognized her as one of the part time receptionists in the lobby. She also occasionally helped in the kitchen.

"Kirsten." He nodded brusquely at her. "And Hank." He smiled, holding out his hand in the friendly gesture. He dropped it to his side when the grim faces did not change.

Hank turned his head to look at Kristen in question.

"Yes. That's him," she told the attorney. "He's the one who raped me." She visibly trembled; she could barely look at Chuck.

…

She hadn't been her in awhile, she reflected. It had been at least a year since she'd frequented suite 1812 at The Palace. So much had happened in that suite. Sometimes it felt like she'd grown up here, or maybe it had just been her childhood hide away. No matter how other people had viewed Chuck, when Nate wasn't with him and things weren't quite right with Serena, she could come here. Once upon a time, she had been innocent with Chuck and this had been their place.

Ever since Chuck had purchased the Empire and made the place his own, this sanctuary had been abandoned. She hoped no one had stayed in the suite since Chuck had vacated it, though she doubted that was the case. The Empire was his pride and joy. Surely he didn't care for this place anymore. Except in his most dire moments when he needed to be alone, and something huge was blocking even his libido for the dancers at Victrola.

The door swung open just as she was lifting her hand up to knock. Her gentle fist hung in mid-air as they stared each other down for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he stepped back and gestured for her to enter. When the door closed behind them, she felt the confines of the room. She turned to look at him, half nerves over what he would say to her and half sympathy. She didn't know all the facts because he hadn't bothered to return her calls or texts, but she'd heard things, seen them on gossip girl and all over the tabloids, the news. Lily had been calling her frantically, but what could she tell her? She and Chuck weren't even friends. She didn't know any more than anyone else, which was next to nothing.

So, finally she'd broken out of her caution, attacked Chuck with numerous texts and calls, all going unanswered, even with the various tones her voice messages relayed. Not to her surprise, she had to take it into her own hands in person.

This was when she had to let everything go. It wouldn't be for good, she told herself. As soon as Chuck was back up on solid ground, she'd retreat behind her solid walls through which no one could penetrate. She'd claim he didn't love her, that he'd crossed too many lines and hurt her too badly for her to even consider forgiving him.

But that would be then. Now she had to lower her barricades just a little, show him that she cared, that her feelings were _real_. At least in the sense that she would take care of him when he felt no one else would understand, because truth be told they really wouldn't. They would all try their hardest, but only she had the ability to truly understand him and devise a plan that would make him rise above all the chaos.

It would be awful hypocritical if she told him she loved him just because he was in a dire situation, and then took it back later when it was safe to return to their games. She would avoid those three magic words at all costs.

"I suppose you want to know what happened," Chuck said, taking her away from her thoughts.

She nodded once, her gaze lingering on the floor before rising to meet his eyes. "I'd like some clarification, yes."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, not bothering to mention his unresponsiveness to her persistent communication as he crossed the room and sat on the couch, swallowing too much of the scotch left in his glass. He winced.

"Well, unfortunately the rumors are mostly correct."

She watched him steadily, unmoving.

"Bed bugs have infested The Empire, there were some fires set, though the rumor that the fire department had to frequent the hotel on more than one occasion is false. It only happened once and that was because my staff failed to get to the room in which the fire was set on time. In their defense, fires were being set almost two to a floor, so elevators were abandoned for the stairs." He paused, analyzing his now empty scotch glass as if he'd never seen it before and then setting it on the low table in front of him. "I imagine racing up and down so many stairwells eventually wears one out."

Blair sighed and crossed the room to sit on the loveseat to the left of him. She dropped her purse beside her on the cushions.

"I'm sorry, Chuck."

Silence ensued.

"The sexual harassment accusations are false," he said quickly.

Her eyes flicked up to his and saw the fear that disappeared almost instantly. Her brows furrowed. _Did he think she suspected him? Surely not. _She knew he'd never do such a horrific, unprofessional thing, just as she'd known the year before when—

"I never thought they weren't," she said, once she'd recovered.

He nodded once, evidently satisfied in that regard, and then slunk back into the couch. He seemed to be staring into nothing for the longest time. Her concern for him grew and all she wanted to do was hold him. That would certainly be lowering her guard, but she didn't know if he would accept. She was scared.

"How long are you staying here?" she asked instead.

He shifted his gaze to look at her. "Until I figure out what to do."

She tilted her head in questioning.

"Technically until The Empire is bed bug-free again, but…I might stay away longer." His eyes diverted from hers again.

"Why?" she asked, genuinely curious.

"I miss it here," he said quietly.

It wasn't the truth, though he might partially believe it. It sounded like he did. The tone of his voice was so lost it hurt her to hear it. She realized she was tightening her form against the couch out of nerves on what she should do. She loosened her grip and decided to take the leap. He hadn't snapped at her yet, and maybe she was jinxing it by taking this first step, but she had to try. He needed her now.

She stood to her feet, abandoning her purse and most of her hesitance and crossed the small space between the couches, sitting beside him. He seemed to be completely unaware of the transaction until she sat down beside him.

He looked up at her and stared for awhile. Then he shook his head a let out a half-mocking laugh.

"Not the time, Waldorf."

For a moment, she was confused, but then it all clicked. She closed her eyes and shook her own head softly. Then she reached forward and clasped her hand around one of his. Hesitantly, he looked back into her doe-eyed gaze, shining now with that beacon of hope he'd so craved during the past week. He wanted to give in so badly.

"Not sex, Chuck." She squeezed his hand a little tighter, inviting him into her warmth. "Just me."

He could hardly breathe. He thought his eyes might even be watering. How long had he wanted this? It felt like an eternity. And she was just there, letting him drink her in. With all that he was dealing with, this was the only thing that would bring him relief. And then they could figure out this whole mess together. The beautiful vision had been nothing more than a fantasy ever since Russell came waltzing into his life with all his fake charm and smiling threats.

And now it was here. Just waiting for him.

He almost went to her, but the ringing warning bells going off in his head made him stop. She might be here for him now, but she'd return to the games and go back behind her walls the second everything had worked out again. No matter how desperately he needed her now and how much she could mend his wounds, it would be twice as painful when she pulled away again.

He couldn't fight for her now, not when he couldn't even take care of himself. But going back to square one again after how far they'd come – or how far he thought they'd progressed in those fleeting moments – just seemed unthinkable. He wouldn't do that.

"Do you love me?" he asked.

She tensed at the abrupt question. She'd hoped to avoid this topic. There was no way she could answer his question directly, and she knew she'd lose whatever goal she'd been striving for if she gave him the wrong answer.

"I _care_ about you," she said carefully, hoping her gentle touch and soothing voice she managed to maintain would be enough.

Chuck pulled his hand away and moved across the room, swiftly pulling up another glass from behind the bar and pouring himself some more scotch. He swallowed three full glasses in the space of fifteen seconds, before Blair had even stood to her feet and attempted to intervene.

She sighed. "Chuck—"

His fourth glass froze mid-air and he looked at her. "Just go home, Blair."

Her brows narrowed. "I'm not leaving you alone like this, Chuck."

He scoffed and set the half-empty glass onto the bar roughly. "Why not?" His hands firmly gripped the edge of the counter. "This wasn't part of our arrangement. Just sex. Nothing else. No feelings. No strings attached." He finished the scotch in one swift shot and moved around the bar, walking towards her. "Remember?"

She opened her mouth to say something, but closed it again. She should've known it wouldn't be easy. _Of course_ she remembered the details of their agreement. She'd been the one to insist so heavily upon them.

"This is an exception," she stammered.

He raised his brows in unconcealed amusement. "A new clause to our treaty? Shall I get out pen and paper or will you just remind me every time we're together?"

Her brows narrowed. "I'm not trying to hurt you, Chuck."

He halted in front of her. "And you're not. I have no feelings, as I recall. Heartless narcissist, selfish, soulless. Isn't that right?"

"_What_?" she managed to squeak. She'd vented about to Chuck to any various amount of people, though the two most common were often Serena and Dorota, but she hadn't done it recently.

"How did you—" she broke off. She saw the hurt in his eyes when she didn't bother to deny his accusation.

"I'm not stupid, Blair. Just because I stopped reading your diary and haven't eavesdropped on you and Serena any time lately doesn't mean I've forgotten. I'm well aware I don't deserve you." He moved past her again and collapsed on the couch.

She felt herself grow numb. She was afraid to sit on the couch next to him now, and very hesitant to move at all except maybe to face him. This was getting out of control. _Wasn't what he wanted was to have her on a more emotional level? _He should've been so eager for it to forget what would lie in the future. If now couldn't be fixed, then all future plans could be abandoned now.

"So just…" he sighed wearily. "Go home."

She turned to face him, her heart breaking as she tried to hold herself together. On shaky legs, she took the single step to the couch and sat down again. She was careful not to touch him.

"I want to be there for you."

His eyes flicked to hers, recognition shining in them but also fury. So much was brewing inside him at the fastest speed. He knew it was only a matter of time before he completely lost control.

"You want to be there for me?" he scoffed. She didn't dare move. "If you will recall, that hasn't worked out well for you in the past." He stood to his feet again and moved past her.

She shot up. "That is _not_ my fault." Her hands curled into tight, shaking fists at her sides. Her arms were stiff with tension. "You are just so _stubborn_ that you won't ever let me in all the way."

He spun around, seemingly unable to keep from moving from one side of the room to the other. "_I'm_ the stubborn one? What about _you_? I have been trying to get through to you ever since we made this ridiculous bargain, but you won't budge."

"What do you call _this_?" she gawked.

"Intermission!"

She looked at him as if he'd lost his mind.

He stalked towards her. "You and I both know that the second everything has recovered with the Empire and Russell is safely out of town, you're going to return right to where we were before, just sex, no feelings, no strings attached."

She couldn't bring herself to respond to that. "Who's Russell?"

He looked at her and shook his head in disbelief. His jaw clenched. "No one. Just…no one." He turned away again and headed for the bar.

She groaned in frustration. "You drive me crazy, Chuck Bass. Why won't you just let me help you?"

"That's not what I want, and you know it."

"You want it more permanent."

"Yep." He cracked open another bottle of scotch and poured himself a glass.

"You know I can't do that." She crossed her arms across his chest. "I can't forgive you." Her nails dug into her arms.

"So, go." He shrugged, sipping the scotch nonchalantly.

She fumed and stalked toward him. She stole the glass away from him and slammed it on the far end of the bar. "I still care about you, Chuck, even if I don't love you. Don't shut me out."

He leaned in dangerously close. "You are _not_ my girlfriend." He pronounced each word carefully, making sure each syllable was heard in perfect clarity, so she'd remember just how she'd insisted on getting involved with him at the start of this fair two years prior.

Shudders rippled through her, and then without warning, "I would've been your _wife_." The whisper was harsh and nearly silent but the effect crackled between them equivalent to the collision of a tornado and a hurricane.

She took a step back, shaking. She could no longer look at him. "Or at least your fiancée," she murmured. When he said nothing, still frozen in shock, she collected her purse on the couch and silently left, just as he'd asked.

Chuck stared after her at the closed door long after she'd left. He could not comprehend what she'd just said in the context they'd been speaking. Eventually, he just let the numbness take over. He crawled into bed and slept in a shaking sweat.

…

A/N: Hope you enjoyed. Basically this is going to be angst-city or non-interaction between CB for the rest of the fic till the end. Hope you hold on! It's gonna be intense! Please r & r! ;p


	15. Selfish, Selfless Love

A/N: The semester has started, and I literally have no time to do anything but homework and go to classes Monday-Friday, so these chapters will come out weekly (since I'll only be able to work on them during the weekends), if that. I apologize for that inconvenience. Hopefully you'll still read & review. I love you guys! =D **The Wonderful** **Katie, thanks again for beta'ing for me! **I think we're all relieved. Lol.

*I own nothing. No copyright infringement intended.

…

**Ch.15—Selfish, Selfless Love**

Chuck tried very hard not to clench his jaw, but the little information his P.I. had given him was not encouraging in the least. It was clear that Russell Thorpe had covered his tracks well. That did not help matters. It reminded him of a few hard-to-track-down situations in the past couple of years, but dwelling on those didn't help either.

"I need something _solid_, Andrew."

The man sitting across from him shook his head slightly, flipping through the papers contained in his manila folder. He glanced at the briefcase sitting beside him in the booth and appeared to be contemplating its contents. He reached for it finally and dug out another folder. This one was more loaded. A few pictures were slipping through the edges.

"There is one other thing…" he trailed off, opening the folder.

"Let's have it," Chuck said, folding his hands on the table.

The P.I. sighed. "I don't think it's going to do you much good, Mr. Bass." He glanced up at his client. "It's just family matters. Nothing business-related at all."

Chuck's eyes lit up, despite the doubtful tone of his P.I.'s voice.

"You can't separate business and family," he said, practically euphoric. "I know that better than anyone." He snatched away the folder and looked through it. After a few moments, he handed it back over to his P.I. "Tell me what's inside. It'll take me too long to go through it all right now."

Andrew controlled any impulses to deny his client from what he felt was very unhelpful information. "Russell Thorpe has a daughter," he said.

Chuck smirked. "Believe it or not, Andrew, I gathered that much from the pictures."

"She's staying at a boarding school in Boston. It's a year-round school. She hasn't seen her father in over two years. She's ten."

Chuck's smirk extended into a satisfied smile. Finally, he was getting a lead. The average person might not be able to grasp the connection here, but he did. Part of him felt bad for the girl, but he was too focused on his goal that he ignored that pang of empathy. There was a story here, and one he fully intended to exploit.

He leaned back into the seat. "What's her name?"

"Raina."

"And her mother?"

"Died three years ago."

Chuck's brows furrowed, as if he had not quite expected that, but then his face cleared. "Let me guess. Right about that time she was sent off to boarding to school?"

Andrew nodded. "That seems to be the case."

Chuck smiled again. "What was the cause of death?"

"Suicide."

Chuck's face fell. Shivers suddenly erupted through him. He was frozen into a world of wind and ice. His heart beat faster. He could not explain it, but the very word sent daggers straight to his core. Maybe because he'd nearly attempted the action on a few accounts.

He cleared his throat and sat up in his seat, leaning across the table a little, gathering his thoughts and squelching any overpowering feelings.

"Anything else?" he asked, looking up at him.

Andrew looked back down at the contents in the folder. "She had an older sister."

Chuck looked intrigued. "Tell me about her."

"She died about eight years prior to her mother. She was about your age. Cause of death was scarlet fever."

"Was this when Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe started having marital problems?"

Andrew blinked, seemingly baffled that his client had connected the dots. He nodded though, washing away his oblivion.

"And this…Raina, she's not his late wife's daughter, is she?"

Andrew shook his head. "No."

"Hmm." Chuck sank back into his seat and thought about what he'd just learned. "Mistress?" he asked after a long period of time.

"Yes. Lucy Rogers. Mr. Thorpe's…sister-in-law."

Chuck's brows rose. "Well, now," he said softly, "that's very interesting." Then, he scoffed, ignoring his P.I.'s nodding head. "And you thought I wouldn't be interested in any of this?" He cut off the man before he could respond. "Where is the mother now? Does she have any part in her daughter's life or is she as cold as Russell and quite on board with this boarding school intervention?"

"She fought for custody," Andrew said. "But she was denied it on too much involvement with illegal drugs and drinking while driving."

Chuck whistled, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Alright," he said, sitting up in his seat. "The business side of things. You told me already, but tell me again. I feel the context will fit into place after everything involving the daughter."

Andrew pushed the folder aside and took the one from before out of his briefcase again, setting it on the table in front of him. "Your father and Russell went to college together. They both got into the hotel business and were both very profitable. After a steady decrease in ratings for Russell's investments however, the two men saw less and less of each other. About a year later, he moved to Chicago and Bart remained in New York."

"And the case of Lucy Rogers? Did it take place during that time?"

"No. By then your father and Mr. Thorpe were no longer in contact. Russell had regained his status in the business world and easily buried the case in the heat of its processing. It is speculated that Bart delivered some sort of threat to Russell before he left, or maybe they just had a disagreement." He shrugged.

Chuck nearly laughed. "I don't care for your opinions, Andrew." He paused. "But thank-you for your time and your resources." He slid a bulging white envelope across the table and made his way out of the booth, grabbing hold of the two manila folders. "Keep digging." He smirked and walked out of the restaurant.

The fresh New York air made him nearly euphoric. He felt the anticipation drumming through his veins. All that was left was to use this information against Russell in some way, and hope that Andrew would find more to Russell's story. The scandal he'd been through couldn't have come out of thin air. He needed to discover what exactly had caused his father and this con to split ways back in their younger days.

The adrenaline rush was high. He wanted to share it with somebody, let them in on his secrets and proceed with clever, unsuspecting calculation.

_Oh hell, _there was no point in denying it. He wanted to share this with Blair, and he was feeling much better than he had the night before. Perhaps she would forgive him again. And if not, he knew she would not oppose destroying an individual that had wronged him.

He ignored the nagging in the back of his head that told him if she didn't already, she would very soon be unable to care less.

…

The peonies smelled good, he thought encouragingly. Blair could never resist those light pink peonies. She was in heaven when she saw them, consumed in their scent. He loved watching her smell them, just as he was doing now. It was almost like she was there with him. He couldn't wait till they intercepted. There would be the witty snark, then he'd pull out the flowers. She'd deny him, but it would be hard. Then he'd seduce her and when it was over he could tell her what he'd learned. He'd been unable to do that last night, but today was different. Things were looking up, and as she'd said – she could hardly stay mad at him because of the type of relationship they were in.

Everything was going to be alright.

_Ding._

He stepped out into the Waldorf penthouse, the sound of his shoes echoing throughout the room. He didn't notice it at first.

"Blair," he called out when Dorota didn't appear from any of the adjoining rooms. He walked into the kitchen after glancing up the staircase, the sound of his shoes following him.

Nobody was in the kitchen, the hall, the dining room or any of the other rooms on the first floor. He frowned. It was entirely possible Blair was out shopping with Serena and that Dorota had the day off. Eleanor could be gone already, but something just felt off and he was uneasy. By the time he'd returned to the base of the stairs, the sound of his shoes on reverberating throughout the room seemed like a pounding headache. He shook himself from the reverie Blair's empty house had put him under, and went up the stairs.

It was silent there too. He walked down the hall until he reached Blair's room. Maybe out of character – he knocked on the door. It easily pushed open. Cautiously, he walked inside, eyeing the room with unusual suspicion.

"Blair?"

There was no answer, but what he did notice was a book lying open on the bed. He walked towards it, his heart suddenly racing when he realized it was her diary. Carefully, as if he thought he'd break it, he picked up the scented book and lowered himself onto the plush silk comforter.

He cradled the book in his hands. They were trembling. He thought he could feel a cold sweat developing on his forehead and he had no idea why. He'd come over feeling more confident than ever, hardly able to wait until they'd meet again. He longed to share the details of his calculated research via Andrew Tyler, and then they could figure out together how they would…

_ Dearest Audrey,_

_ I don't think I can take this anymore._

…But he'd forgotten how much he'd hurt her. It had gotten past him in the midst of all this that image of the tears that wouldn't spill from her eyes when she quietly left his suite the night before. His feelings had exploded during that confrontation. _He_ hadn't been able to take it anymore. For all the face he'd been able to keep before, when everything came crashing down around him, he couldn't pretend anymore. He couldn't beat around the bush or pretend things wouldn't happen when he knew they would. And at that point when he was teetering on the edge of fury and complete collapse due to the unlimited source of weakness and hurt that was such a part of him, he was the most dangerous person to be around.

He couldn't blame her for being around when he was in that state. She had maternal instincts when it came to the people she cared for – or the people she _used_ to care for, out of habit. He didn't want to believe she cared for him, because it would be so close to what he wanted without having it, but he knew it was the truth. Her soothing voice, her tender caress, the sweet sympathy in her eyes. He wanted to drown in those eyes.

But he hurt her instead. Because she was real. She felt, just like he did. He didn't know what that meant in regards to loving him, because she'd said so many times before that she didn't anymore, that she couldn't forgive him and none of that could equal love.

Still, even as he read the diary that he'd abandoned for the sake of false musings after she'd discovered him pouring over her sacred book, and was no doubt getting paid back every second of how much he'd hurt her, proving that she indeed did feel for him to some degree, he knew he wouldn't be getting her today. And not just because she wasn't home.

_ I went to him and I tried to help him. He pushed me away, like usual. Such a narcissist. I don't know how I ever fell in love with him. He's such an ass. And all I really wanted to do was help this time. Honest. What was even worse was the fact that he threw so many prior insults from our past in my face, as if I wasn't hurting enough already. I wish I'd never let him suck me into this stupid deal. I could've avoided so much of this anguish. My heart would've still been broken over everything else he's done, but at least it wouldn't have been like this. This is just…awful._

The sweat grew thick on his didn't want to keep reading, but he knew he had to. This was his fault. Clutching the sides of the diary, he forced himself to focus on the words.

_ I remember how it was in the beginning, Audrey. _

He felt a tingle of recognition ripple through him.

_ Not at the beginning of this charade, but at the real beginning junior year. Then I hadn't wanted to want him, but I knew from the very start that the excitement and leering encouragement he so willingly dished out wasn't something I could ever get anywhere else. _

_ I needed him. I still do._

His heart stopped. She _needed_ him? It seemed impossible. She was either sexual or distant, and now she wanted to help him, but it didn't mean she would ever put herself within reach of him emotionally, if the situation had been reversed.

And now here she was admitting that wasn't the case? That maybe had he been able to control himself she was feeling the exact same he was? That maybe she even still loved him?

He caught his breath in his throat and laid the book back on the bed as he rose to his feet, somewhat still in shock over her words. Any decent human being would do her a favor and get out of her life, cancel their treaty, agreement, whatever it was called now, and just pretend like nothing had transpired between them.

But he couldn't do that. He was selfish to the core and trying desperately – especially now – to change that. But there was also a breed of selflessness that came from being so in love with her. He couldn't give her up. He'd never be able to.

With a determination quite different from the sort he'd had when he'd stepped through the elevator doors, he placed the peonies in an empty vase, filled it with water and set it on the table in the foyer with a small note beside it, just her name and a brief apology. It wasn't enough by any means, but it was contact and it might just keep her suspicions that he'd been in her room and read her diary again at bay. It also would confirm what had happened and where they were. Because it wasn't just sex anymore, and they'd become too emotionally involved the last few days to say that they were nothing to each other.

Now they were _something_, and he was going to fight for it.

…

A/N: Reviews, please!

(fyi, I've started up my personal/GG/VD website again, and it looks WAY cooler & contains a LOT more stuff than before, so if you're interested just head on over to the bottom of my profile, and the dets should be waiting for you there! =D)


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